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marauder-misprint · 3 days ago

Note

Hey sweetie, as news about the new series comes in, my excitement is reaching fever pitch. And I think this is the first time in my life that I'll be looking forward to a James Potter story.

Before Lily and James' relationship began, the marauders could make a bet among themselves. Within a certain period of time (it could also be a specific event, such as a deadline), would James be able to charm a Slytherin girl and kiss her?

If we're talking about marauders, this Slytherin girl might have a last name starting with 28—just to make things even more impossible :D

Throughout this process, the reader might start to develop feelings for James and then find out after the kiss that it was all just a bet. (I admit I've been watching too many classic teen movies lately)

Any happy or unhappy ending is acceptable to me.

If you like the idea and writing it is okay with you, I'm eagerly awaiting it.

Cora ❤︎ I have finished this! I'm not the most happy with the ending? It feels rushed to me, but I also cannot write conversation for the life of me today so it is what it is.

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Getting a girl

James Potter x Flint!reader

5.2k words

cw: fluff, angst, unhappy ending

It was only 8:30 p.m. when James tucked himself into bed. He was feeling defeated.

After dinner, he had gone with just about everyone else in his year outside to one of the courtyards to enjoy the warm evening air. He had been feeling good. Morning practice had felt rewarding and classes were a breeze. So, he decided to try his luck, once again, with Lily. He walked over to the girls.

“Evans! How are you this fine evening?” he asked, running a hand through his hair before leaning against one of the stone columns.

She barely looked up from her conversation. “Better before you opened your mouth.”

“Well, I can make it up to you. Let’s go for a walk, just you and me. I’m sure the grounds look almost as lovely as you do.”

“I’d rather eat Marlene’s vomit. No thanks,” she said with an annoyed expression. “Come on.”

She grabbed Marlene and Mary and walked away from James. He stood there for a moment. She had turned him down time and time again, but for some reason, this one hit him right in the chest. It strangled something within him. It didn’t make sense that her simple refusal made him feel like this. He sighed and gave his limbs a little shake. He returned to his friends for a little bit, not feeling into being around people. Then he headed to his dorm alone.

His friends weren’t oblivious to his sudden mood change, and when they came into the dorm to see him already in bed, their suspicions were confirmed.

“Sulking over your Lilyflower?” Sirius asked, leading Remus and Peter toward James’ bed.

James made a groaning noise.

“You know there are other girls out there. Other fish in the sea. Or, I guess, other flowers in the garden?” Remus asked, sitting down on Sirius’ bed.

“Sure, but it’s not like James could woo them if he wanted to,” Peter said.

“What do you mean? He’s a proper catch!” Sirius said, defending James for him.

James moved slightly so his face wasn’t buried in his pillow. He groaned again.

“Then why can’t he get a girl?”

“Not that he can’t. He just doesn’t want any one beside Evans,” Sirius said.

“I think it’s can’t,” Peter said, crossing his arms with a smirk on his face. He didn’t mind playing devil’s advocate; it was fun.

James sat up. “I can get a girl.”

“Yeah? Care to prove it?”

“Pick one. And when I get her wrapped around my finger, you’ll owe me ten galleons.”

Peter’s smile twisted into a mischievous smirk. “Y/N Flint. Get her to kiss you before we leave for Christmas. Has to be her making the move.”

James’ expression fell just slightly before he masked it. Peter chose a challenge. This wasn’t just if James could get a girl, it was if James could get an unattainable girl. You were about as likely to go out with James as Lily was.

You practically had your own guard: Evan Rosier, Anthony Avery, John Mulciber and Stefan Wilkes. Sometimes Severus Snape, Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black would be there too. You were always around one of them, usually more. It made you not the most approachable person. James couldn’t just walk up to you.

So, he started with baby-steps. The first being observation. Was there ever a time when you were alone? Or at least without the boys. James figured he could try talking to you if it was Dorcas, Pandora or Samantha. To his dismay, you were never alone.

He reminded himself: baby-steps. In his observing, he realized he learned your schedule fairly easily. He could attempt to catch your eye and wave to you. Part of the challenge was getting you to come onto him so why not get you to do the work from the beginning?

The first time you caught James looking at you, it’s across the Transfiguration classroom in the middle of McGonagall’s lecture. He smiled when he realized you’re actually looking back at him and he held your gaze until you looked away. You caught him looking at you a few more times throughout lessons that day. It hit the point where you approached him after Arithmancy.

“What are you looking at, Potter?” you asked, voice level and uninterested, like it was a chore to ask him.

“Thought it was pretty obvious,” he said with an easy smile.

“Then why?”

“To get you to talk to me. Worked, didn’t it?”

“And why do you need me to talk to you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Well, your friends are a bit… unnerving.” James stood up with a misguided notion that you were actually going to stand there and chat with him.

“Unnerving? Huh, I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.” You gave him a quick once over before adding, “Cute.” Then you looked over to where Dorcas was just getting up from her desk. “Come on, Dorcas.”

You walked out of the classroom with Dorcas following closely behind. The latter glanced back at James confused.

“Hear that, lads? I’m cute.”

“Don’t think she meant it as a compliment…” Remus muttered.

James waved a dismissing hand at Remus. It was part of the process. James didn’t expect you to be falling all over him because he simply looked at you. He knew you weren’t that type of girl. He planned to prove to you that he was worth your time and once you decided he was, you’d be kissing him in no time.

“What was that with Potter?” Dorcas asked as she walked with you to the dungeons.

“Not sure. But apparently you’re unnerving.” You smiled at her.

“Did he say me specifically? I would hope I’m more, ah, what’s the word, daunting.”

“He said my friends.”

“Then I think he’s referring to the idiots who couldn’t make it into N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy.”

“Dropping Arithmancy was a choice,” Evan said, making himself known. He had been silently walking behind the girls with Stefan.

“Hi, how was class? Study hall was a bore,” you said overenthusiastically. “Class was great, thanks for asking, Evan.”

“Why would we ask when you’re just going to do it for us?” Stefan asked, stepping forward and putting an arm around Dorcas’ shoulders.

She quickly shrugged him off.

“It’s called manners. And you both could use to learn some.”

Evan dropped into a deep bow. “Please accept my deepest apologies, your majesty. How may I ever make it up to you?”

You gave Dorcas a look and the two of you kept walking towards your common room. Stefan nudged Evan and they were followed, giving you a little more space than before but not enough that they’d have to give the password again.

At dinner, you let curiosity get the best of you. You glanced toward the Gryffindor table a few times, and every time, James was already looking at you. This had to mean that he wanted something other than just getting you to talk to him. You had talked to him. He didn’t say anything worth listening to.

You let James get in your head too easily. How could one person looking at you constantly be enough to get you to be quiet at dinner? It wasn’t like people never looked at you. You were a Flint, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and you liked to think you were both smart and pretty. People noticed when you walked into rooms.

“Thinking about something?” Pandora asked when you and your roommates were getting ready for bed. “You’ve been quiet.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Of all people, James Potter.”

Samantha and Pandora both stared at you, wide-eyed and waiting for an explanation. Dorcas had at least seen you talk to him today, but was interested nonetheless.

“Go on,” Samantha said.

“Just been staring at me all day. Bit weird.”

“Maybe he’s moved on from that mudblood he’s been chasing,” Samantha said. “You’d be quite the upgrade.”

“Because that’s what I need, Potter’s undivided attention and affection.”

You gave James two more days of staring at you before you would talk to him again. This time, it was after Potions. You put your hand on his book and looked at his friends.

“Move on, boys.”

James smiled at his friends as they finished putting their things away at an ever-so-slightly quickened pace. You took your hand off James’ book and leaned against his station with your arms crossed once the boys were gone.

“You’ve been staring.”

“Yeah. Ever heard of the phrase ‘keep your eye on the prize’?”

You nodded slowly, tilting your head from one side to the other.

“I have. I have… But I fear it doesn’t apply in this situation,” you said.

“What would apply? Enlighten me.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “If you want it, you got to work for it.” You stopped leaning against his brewing station. “Simply staring won’t get you anywhere in life. Enjoy the free advice.”

You were about to walk away when James grabbed your wrist. You looked at him impatiently. You could see Evan, Anthony and John over James’ shoulder. Your “unnerving” friends could be at your side in an instant if James made the wrong move, not that you’d actually need their help.

“I’ll put in the work. I’d go the extra mile.”

“If that’s so, don’t be afraid of my friends. They’re harmless.” You smiled sweetly. “Until they’re provoked.”

You pulled your wrist out of his hand and left the classroom. Evan, Anthony and John walked closer to James’ desk than they needed to as they trailed behind you.

James stood there for a moment. Until they’re provoked. Right. Because all the times he’s pranked your friends over the years hasn’t provoked them.

You didn’t see James staring at you across the Great Hall during dinner. You thought you had escaped whatever he was trying to do. It relaxed you. Usually whatever James was up to was no good and you had no desire to be on the receiving end of one of his pranks or schemes or jokes or whatever.

James was simply gathering himself. It was an embarrassing amount of repeating to himself that your friends were harmless. Then he had to figure out when he would talk to you again and what he would say. His previous conversations with you were short. He had to admit that he didn’t actually know much about you.

His staring dramatically decreased the next day. You were convinced that James really was scared of your friends. But then he approached you during study hall, despite the fact that you were sitting with Severus, Anthony and John. The boys stared him down as he stood next to you for a few seconds without saying anything.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hello, Potter,” you said as you continued to work on the Ancient Runes essay you had in front of you.

“I was wondering if you’d done the Herbology worksheet,” James said slowly, as if testing the waters.

“I think I’m about halfway done with it.”

“Oh, brilliant. Would you want to work on it together?” James asked, already sitting down and opting to ignore the increasingly intense stares of your friends.

“Might as well,” you replied with a shrug before reaching into your bag to putt it out. “Any chance you actually pay attention?”

“Occasionally, but I’ve become quite skilled at finding answers in the book.”

A brief, quiet laugh escaped your lips. It was enough to make James smile and take a breath of relief. You had somewhat hoped James had taken notes in class so the sheet would be more fill-in-the-blank, but instead, he had pulled out the textbook and set it between you. Yours was back in your dorm. It was a thick tome that you couldn’t be bothered to carry, even when Professor Sprout requested that students bring it to class.

“First question, did you get four glossy, smooth-edged leaves?” you asked.

“Yes. And two should be itchiness and swelling.”

“Until asphyxiation.”

James chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Erm, yeah, I suppose. Or until an antidote is applied.”

“No guarantee anyone’s around to apply it.”

“Okay. Um, number three, underwater fiery petunia weed?”

You hummed affirmatively. “And false for four. I stopped there last night. Got bored.”

“Five should be blooms once every four years,” James said, flipping back a few pages in the textbook and pointing to a section under a diagram of a flower. “And six might just be bees? I’m not sure if she’s counting manual pollination.”

You leaned over to see the section he was referring to in order to copy down the answer. In doing so, you caught a whiff of his cologne. It took you by surprise. It was nice. It was different than what your friends usually wore, but in a good way. It was a warmer scent that didn’t scream This costs one hundred galleons.

As you worked on the rest of the worksheet, you and James shared his book, both of you scanning the sections at your own paces and letting the other know when you were ready for a page flip. You’re certain you finished it faster and more correctly than if you had done it on your own. James muttered a few comments here and there that made you smile. Even though your focus was mainly on the worksheet, you could still feel James’ eyes occasionally drift to you and linger. So he was still staring.

“Oh, that was the last question… Not so bad,” James said, flipping over the double-sided sheet from back to front to back. “Thanks for working on it with me. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

He gave you a wide smile and moved to stand up, but you grabbed his wrist. He gave you a questioning look.

You rose just enough to whisper in his ear, “You smell good.”

Then you let go of him and sat back down. His smile widened even more. You returned it with a sly smile. He nodded and went back to his friends. John watched James leave with a wary expression before turning to look at you.

“What was that?”

“Herbology homework.”

“I meant-”

“I know. Not exactly,” you snapped. Now you had to work on your Ancient Runes assignment before you lost the motivation to do so.

Now that James had sat at the same table as you with your unofficial guard, he felt more confident. The next day, he was saying hi to you when he passed by in the corridor. He was still staring at you from across the classroom, but now when you caught him, he flashed you a brilliant smile, one that was more happiness filled than cocky, and a wave.

After Herbology, he stopped by your station and said, “Just bees was correct. Glad I didn’t change it.”

“Shame she didn’t include asphyxiation though,” you replied.

Pandora’s curious expression when he walked away was priceless. It was understandable though. James had never exchanged little comments like that with you before.

He made it clear that he was no longer intimidated by your male friends. A few days later, he approached you after lessons and asked if you’d want to work on homework in the library with him.

“You know where the library is, Potter?” you asked.

“It’s that big room that I usually avoid,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk. “If I didn’t know where it was, I might wander in there by accident.”

“But you’re offering to go there now? Willingly?” you asked with an overly-sweet tone.

He shrugged and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Is that not where you usually do homework?”

“Common room, actually. But you can’t go there. So, sure. Lead the way to the forbidden land, Potter.”

Dorcas and Anthony watched as you left them to go with James.

“This is weird, right?” she asked him.

“Very.”

“I’m going to find Pandora. We’ll keep an eye on him,” Dorcas said.

All the two girls would see in the library would be you and James sitting next to each other, textbooks spread across the table as you worked on homework. Every once in a while, one of you would say something that would make the other laugh. It appeared simple, innocent, friendly. That made it all the more suspicious to them.

“You know he’s not a threat,” you hissed, breaking the two girls out of their zoned out state. You had spotted them a few tables away and excused yourself.

“What?” Dorcas asked. “Are we not allowed to work on homework in here?”

You looked at their table. Dorcas had a Defense textbook open and Pandora was doodling.

“Homework. Right.”

“Yup. I’m going to turn this in for extra credit. Sprout will love it,” Pandora said with a nod.

“Okay,” you said, shaking your head.

It would take a few more asking you to study before your friends stopped questioning it. Well, they still questioned it, but they didn’t bring any attention to it. You agreed to go with him. You seemed in a decent enough mood when you came back to the common room or to the Slytherin table for dinner.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” James asked as he tucked his Potions’ essay into his bag.

You hummed, still finishing yours.

“If I asked you to Hogsmeade, what would you say?”

“In a hypothetical, I’d say no.” You saw his face fall in your periphery. “But that’s only a hypothetical. Too many variables.”

“Oh. Um, okay. Y/N, would you like to get butterbeers with me in Hogsmeade?” he asked, unsure if that’s what you were saying with the hypothetical and variable talk.

“Like a date?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll go on a date with you. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” James said, now smiling with a new brightness in his eyes. “Meet you at the Three Broomsticks?”

You nodded.

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

James was extra smiley when he got back to his dorm. You agreed to a date. He could get a date. It wasn’t like you were going out with just any bloke who asked you. This was something. James could get a girl. Just not Lily apparently.

You kept your date with James under wraps. Your friends, who already disliked James, didn’t need to know that you were going to be spending more time with him. So when it was time to meet James in Hogsmeade, you slipped away from your friends. They were in an intense argument about something or other.

James was waiting for you outside the Three Broomsticks. His face brightened when he spotted you.

“You came,” he said as you got closer. He opened the door for you.

“I said I’d go on a date with you. I keep my word.”

“I’m glad.”

“Up to you to ensure I don’t regret it,” you said, picking a table to sit at. “Was this why you started staring at me?”

“If I’m being honest, yes. I knew I had to be your friend before I could dream of getting you here.”

“You’re not the only one who’s dreamed about dating me,” you teased.

“I would be surprised if I was. You’re beautiful.”

“And a damn good time,” you added with a smile.

“That I’ve come to know,” James said. “Never been upset when I’m with you.”

“I’m waiting for you to piss me off. Feels like it happen eventually.”

“If you think I’m going to piss you off, why did you agree to come?”

“See how long it takes.”

“And here I was hoping that you might actually like me.”

“I’m debating it. You haven’t been as bad as I was expecting.”

“Coming to see that I’m a delight?” he asked.

You laughed. He was proving to be alright. He could make you laugh and make time pass by quicker. He didn’t seem to care about little status things, which you were debating if you liked or not.

“Speaking of delights, Flitwick’s exam? How do you think you did?” James asked.

It’s strange how easy it is to talk to James. This was more continuous conversation, only broken up by sips of butterbeer, rather than the miscellaneous comments while you worked on homework. You talked about the exam and the homework. You joked about your friends and their arguments. James talked about some drama that was going down in the Gryffindor Tower.

By the time you’d gone through a few cups of butterbeer, you had decided that James wasn’t too bad. He didn’t piss you off. He listened to your stories. He laughed at your jokes. Despite some hesitancy, you would admit that you liked spending time with James.

You figured he must feel the same since he kept finding time to be near you. You studied together even more frequently. He walked with you to classes you had together, even if your other friends were with you. They didn’t really warm up to James. They simply tolerated him for your sake.

Then he didn’t split up from you when you reached the Great Hall. He followed you all the way to the Slytherin table. You expected him to turn around when you sat down, for him to cross the hall to Gryffindor’s table. But when you sat down, so did he.

“Excuse me?” Severus snapped.

James looked at you, silently asking if it was okay that he had sat down.

“Bugger off, Snape. He’s with me,” you said, giving James a soft smile.

The boys around you, besides James, exchanged glances that you chose to ignore. James had become your friend and was steadily working toward something more. The boys would have to get used to him being around. Dorcas and Pandora were a smidge warmer to James. So at least he had that.

Dinner ended up only being slightly awkward. You acted like nothing was weird. It was just all your friends together and you could bridge the gaps in the conversation. Soon enough, your laugh was being met with those of your friends. James bumped shoulders with you and shared smaller smiles with you.

He became almost like a shadow to you. Walking you to class, carrying your books, studying in the library, hanging out in alcoves. You stood next to him during the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw quidditch game. James sat at the Slytherin table from time to time. Dorcas and Pandora accepted that he could keep good conversation, but the boys still held out on him. But one thing was certain: you and James were something. You didn’t define it or put a label on it, but something was there.

It was a few days before students were to leave for Christmas break. James had yet to kiss you. You almost wanted to throw it in his face, saying that he was some Gryffindor if he couldn’t kiss the girl he’d been going around with. You didn’t. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment.

“James!” you called across Central Hall. You laughed as you got closer and saw that he was holding a small box. “We had the same idea, didn’t we?”

You held out your own small box for him. He smiled and swapped the two.

“I didn’t want to risk not seeing on the last day,” he said.

“Unlikely.”

“I know. But go on. Open it.”

You untied the ribbon before peeling the edges of the wrapping up.

“A box! Perfect!”

“Your favorite, I know.”

You opened the box and your smile grew twice the size. It was a simple necklace with an amethyst pendant.

“You ranted about being tired of diamonds once and I know you like purple…” he muttered, like he needed to explain his gift choice.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“James, it’s perfect,” you breathed as you took a step back. “Wait, wasn’t that diamond rant from before you started staring at me?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Just because I wasn’t looking doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening.” He shifted his weight. “But you really like it?”

“I love it. Will you put it on me?”

He took the small box from you to remove the necklace. You lifted your hair so that he could clasp it around your neck.

“Aren’t you going to open yours?” you asked, turning back around.

“I mean, I don’t need to. You already gave me the best gift.”

“Open it!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed.

He didn’t take nearly as much care with removing the wrapping and when he opened the box, a small broom zipped out and flew around his head. James reached out to catch it and turned it over in his hands, careful to not let it escape.

“Oh, this is brilliant!” he said. He let it go for a few seconds before grabbing it again.

“The handle is a switch. You can adjust it so it doesn’t fly or so it just levitates in one spot,” you explained, toying with your new necklace.

James fidgeted with the handle until the tiny broom hovered over his hand without flying off.

“This is so cool.” He glanced at the library. “Did you have homework, or…”

“I don’t have any. Jus’ was looking for you.”

James slid the broom into his pocket and grabbed his hand. “Then let’s go to the greenhouses. It’s warm in there.”

You let James lead you there, finding a bench in the upper levels. He put his arm around your shoulders as you sat together.

“Got anything planned for break?” James asked.

For a while, the two of you talked about your families’ holiday traditions. When he had to go, he kissed your hand and winked. You stayed in the warmth of the greenhouse for a bit longer, playing with the pendant and smiling to yourself.

“I hear you got your kiss,” Peter said the moment James walked through the door of his dorm.

“Cough up your galleons then,” Remus said. “I believe you agreed to ten.”

Peter went to dig for the coins.

“Don’t worry about it yet, Peter. I haven’t broken up with her yet.”

“Why not?” Peter asked, hand rummaging around his trunk.

“Because that would be rude? We just exchanged Christmas gifts and you kissed me. See you? I’ll end it later.”

Remus and Peter left it at that. Except, James didn’t break things off with you before break started. The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to break your heart. Before Christmas, right – that part was important. He could end things when you got back in person.

Sirius was told that James won the bet. After that, no one mentioned you. You didn’t come up on the ride to King’s Cross. Sirius didn’t bring you up to James’ parents when they came to pick the two boys up. And for the first few days of break, Sirius didn’t see who James was writing letters to. He assumed his friend was writing to Remus or Peter or Marlene or someone else on the quidditch team.

“James, you got mail!” Sirius yelled from the kitchen one morning. An owl had already been by with the post. Sirius flipped through the letters and stopped on one with a heard on it. “Who’s this one from?”

James, having just walked into the kitchen, took the letters from Sirius.

“Oh, that’s from Y/N.”

“Why is she writing to you? And with a heart? Couldn’t get over you or something?”

“No,” James said, shaking his head. “I didn’t break up with her.”

“You didn’t end things? You proved yourself, mate. You don’t have to waste your time on her anymore.”

“Not going to ruin her holiday. That’s cruel.”

James left the kitchen to read your letter in privacy. He thought that he should’ve corrected Sirius that he wasn’t wasting his time. He actually enjoyed spending time with you and looked forward to your letters. You were complaining about a dinner your parents dragged you to. You were the only one there under 30. James immediately went to write back.

Sirius started checking the mail every day. There was always a letter from you. He had no clue what you and James were talking about that could warrant daily correspondence like this. Especially when James was going to break up with you.

A few days after Christmas, he opened one of the letters. You were writing from your grandparents’ house and saying that James would love their cooking. It didn’t even seem like James had planted a seed of uncertainty in you. From the letter, it looked like everything was good between you. So Sirius took things into his own hands. He wrote back to you and burned the letter you had sent.

In the letter Sirius wrote posing as James? He broke up with you. He wrote how it had started. A bet to rebuild his confidence after a painful rejection from Lily. And since he had gotten his kiss, he didn’t need you anymore. But, Hope we can still be friends.

You stared at the letter when it arrived. Your chest felt empty as you sat on the guest bed you had claimed as your own. You had been used. Your friends were right to be wary of James. You should have listened to them. You ripped the necklace James gave you off your neck, breaking the chain. You felt bad about hiding in your room at your grandparents’ house, but you didn’t want to see anyone. Not while you were crying and heartbroken.

What made things worse when you got back to school was James really leaning into the “Hope we can still be friends.” He tried talking to you, walking with you, waving to you across corridors. You ignored him. You didn’t know how he thought he could be your friend after using you like that. After making you like him.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called, jogging to catch up with you as you quickly left the Transfiguration classroom. “Wait up!”

You didn’t. You kept walking. He broke into a full-out sprint to get to you. You only stopped because he grabbed your arm.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to study together, but something’s off with you.” You rolled your eyes. “D’you want to talk about it?”

You yanked your arm out of his hand.

“Talk about it? Why would I talk about it with you?”

He stared at you for a second. There was bite in your voice and anger in your eyes. He wasn’t expecting that from you, although he supposed your letters did stop rather abruptly.

“I… I don’t…”

“You were using me to get over Evans’ rejection. You did it,” you snapped bitterly. “I don’t know why you’re still talking to me. You made it pretty clear in your letter that you didn’t need me. So, just, fuck off, Potter.”

You stalked away from him, leaving him standing there. In his letter? He hadn’t written anything like that to you. He knew he was going to have to tell you eventually that it started as a bet, but he really enjoyed your company and wasn’t planning on ending things. He was so confused. He had grown to like you. Really like you. And you had looked like you would murder him if he tried to talk to you again. He was fucked and he didn’t know why.

tags: @navs-bhat, @faceache111

#marauder-misprint #marauders #marauders fic #request #slytherin!reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter fic

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fallen-w1ngs · 22 hours ago

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could you write tfatws Bucky x reader kinda like enemies to lovers, when she gets a nightmare and panic attack and it's so bad she thought she's dying because it was the first time she had something like that. and she goes to Bucky cause he's the only person she can think about that can help her even though she thinks he doesn't like her. and at first he's like what? what's going on and stuff since it's the middle of the night but he helps her and they end up making out or something like that❤️❤️😚🤭 please make it fluff and comforting❤️i hope you're feeling okay😊

OFC I CAN!!!! Tho i will be making it a gn!reader js cause that's my go-to :)!! hope thats okay <3

'' I'M HERE... SURPRISINGLY ,,

|| pairing : tfatws!james "bucky" barnes x gn!reader

|| warning: depictions of death, grief and panic attacks

|| wc : 2.2k

James Buchanan Barnes, or more commonly known as Bucky, was someone you absolutely despised. Even at first glance, you just.. Could not stand him. When you were called on by Steve to cash in a debt you owed to him, you joined Cap's team, and the moment your eyes met..

You instantly felt cold.

The Winter Soldier- someone that everyone feared. You were debriefed on his past and were planning on playing nice.. But when you tried to speak with him twice during the civil war- well..

"Hey, Barnes," a small grunt left his lips as he kept looking over the newfound technology.. Aka a phone. ".. I was wondering if you wanted a snack? I've got-"

"Don't need." And he walked off.

The second time, he just straight up ignored you when you called out what to do when fighting Iron Man's team. In the end, you just gave up trying- not like you tried that hard, but you know your self worth.

Once the whole Sokovia Accords and all that was over, Stark ended up making ammends with the Cap and everyone and the Avengers became a whole big family- how wonderful. Most of the team lived in the Avengers Tower, which included, but not limited to: You, Stark (obviously), Barnes, Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Wanda, Banner, and more.

It was fine, it wasn't anything like how the media portrayed it. Honestly, everyone minded their business, did their own thing. Occassionally, Steve would force a team bonding excercise.. And tonight was that night.

"Movie night!" The blonde super soldier grinned from ear to ear, carrying jugs of sodas as Wanda besides him levitated giant bowls of popcorn over to the couch.

"Guys, make sure to pick a family friendly movie," Tony plopped himself onto the corner of the couch. A small sigh of satisfaction leaving his lops. "Or else Capsicles gonna have an anyuerism"

Wanda let out a small giggle at that befoee promptly shutting her mouth when she saw Steve glare at Tony.

"Actually, we're gonna be watching a classic." The eccentric billionaire grabbed the remote and switched the TV on, flipping it to the movie. Which ended up being a horror movie, oh how wonderful. You weren't the biggest fan of horror movies with how gorey some could be, reminding you of your own upbringing.

Much like almost all of the Avengers, you didn't have a normal childhood, growing up as a child assassin then growing to just a normal mercenary, it was pretty.. Triggering to see gore to say the least. However, you sat through it, forcing yourself to watch the main characters scream bloody murder everytime they do a dumb mistake.

It was fun at least. Spending time with your chosen family, staying with those you deem closest to you... Plus Bucky.

You could feel him glancing over to you everytime your hands tensed at the sight of blood or everytime a knife got plunged into a characters' throat. You hated how it felt like he pitied you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time the movie ended, half the team had passed out on the couch. Not you though, you stayed until credits startes to roll and you made your way out of there. The ending wasn't surprising, no one survived, the killer lived, a perfect set up for a sequel.

As well as a nightmare.

The second your head hit your pillow, darkness swallowed you whole. You were used to dreamless nights, but you were even more used to memory filled ones. And tonight was no different. Flashes of sterile white splashed, stained with the dark crimson liquid haunted your mind. Your hands were dirtied with your victims blood as you ran out.

Your breathing was heavy and your heart beating was the only thing you could hear. This is just a dream, this is just a dream, THIS IS JUST A DREAM! But not even that could comfort you when you shot out of bed. It wasn't just a dream, all of it was real. Maybe not in the present, but in the past it was.

You ripped your bedsheets off you as if it were fire and brimstone weighing you down, and you stumbled off your bed. Accidentally knocking over items off your bed side table in the process. You couldn't mind the noise, you just had to - well, you didn't even know what you needed in this moment.

Once you pushed your way out of the darkness of your room, your mind raced as your throat was closing up. You needed someone, you couldn't be alone you.. And that's when your eyes locked onto his room. You didn't even think when knocking at his door, your other hand clutching your chest as you tried to breathe.

"It's 2 in the mor-" Bucky's voice was raspy with unrest and before he could lightly scold whoever knocked on his door, his brows furrowed when he saw you. Quickly ushering you inside when he noticed your struggle. "Shit, what happened?"

"Couldn't-" Your hand held tightly onto the sleeve of his shirt. "Needed-" It was a struggle to even get the words you needed out.

Instead, Bucky pushed you onto the bed, letting you keep a tight hold on him as he thought for a moment. His foot tapping against the wooden floors of his room. "Tell me somethin' ya hate about me."

"Wh.. What?"

"Ya hate me, tell me, uh-" Bucky clicked his tongue when he thought. "Tell me how stupud I look when trying to figure something out."

You didn't understand what he was doing, but a small chuckle left your lips. "So- So stupid."

"Yeah, yeah," He paused. "Uhh, super soldier? More like super stupid, yeah? Ha.. Uh, remember the time I fell face first? In front of the new recruits?"

You let out a small snort. "Yeah.. Everyone, uh, started laughin'"

"And uh, what was the comment you made about me?"

You felt your heartbeat slow - maybe it had been growing slow, but it was just noticable now. Your breathing was steady and your hands weren't shaking, and a smile danced on your lips as you let go of his sleeve. "That you looked like a baby cat trying to walk for the first time."

The two of you sat in silence as you took a couple of deep breaths. Your eyes closed as you calmed down, Bucky's gaze locked on you. No grumpiness or brooding this time, pure worry in him.

A couple of moments passed before you spoke again. ".. Thanks."

He nodded and folded his arms over his chest, his dogtags clinking together for a milisecond when he moved. "No need to thank me."

He didn't force youto tell him anything, maybe that's what you liked about him. That he respected not everything needed to be put into words, the both of you just sat there for a while longer, and eventually you rested your head against his shoulder.

"It was a nightmare." You whispered.

He grunted in response.

"I don't even know why-" You took a sharp inhale as you shut your eyes tight. "It wasn't this bad before."

"If you're trying to justify your panic attack," he tilted your head up to loom at him, a small smile ghosting his lips. "Y'don't need to. I know what it's like."

You gave a lazy shrug. "Force o'habit."

Another silence spread between the both of you, your eyes wandering to look at his room. It was pretty bare bones, a poster or two from the spider-kid, photos of him and Steve both fron the 40s and present day, and a few with the whole team, some you were in it.

".. I don't think I can be alone right now, Buck."

"You can stay the night." He nodded and pushed himself deeper in the bed. "I can sleep far 'way from you."

You smiled at that and proceeded to lie down, facing away fron him. "Thanks, Buck."

"No problem, doll."

You laid there, hugging yourself tightly under the covers as you stared into the darkness. The idea of sleeping again right after a bad nightmare? Wasn't exactly pleasent. But.. At least you weren't alone this time. That brought you the smallest bit of comfort.

"Goodnight, Bucky."

He hummed in response, and within around half an hour, he could hear small snores leave your lips. Bucky didn't fall asleep nearly as fast as you did, he laid there, back turned to you as he listened to you.

Despite all the bad blood you sent his way, he never outright hated you. In fact, he quite liked you. Your sarcastic comments, the way you could try to make the best out of the worst situations, and the fact you actually respected his space. It may have been because you didn't wanna be around him, but even during tight space missions, you made sure he had enough room to breathe.

He couldn't place a finger on why you hated him, but what he did know was that he liked you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the morning, you let yourself feel the warmth of the sunlight and the comforters before you even thought of opening your eyes. The night took pity on you and allowed you to have a dreamless night. The only thing in your mind was darkness and you were never more grateful. The only thing that felt off as of right now, was that it was hot.. Too hot.

You cracked open your eyes and you felt your face burn up. Bucky's arms were wrapped around you, his chin resting on the top of your head as you were nicely pressed against his chest. Face to face. The exact opposite of what the both of you were trying to achieve last night.

".. Bucky?" You whispered, tapping his chest with the tip of your finger. "Bucky- Bucky!"

He groaned, pushing his head farther into the pillow, probably not even realizing he was holding you. "Go back t'sleep."

"Bucky. You need to let me go."

"Wha?-" He turned his head just the smallest bit, his eyes cracking open before quickly pushing himself off of you. Almost falling off the bed in the process. "Shit- doll, I'm sorry."

"No- no, it's fine, really." You chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as you kept yourself nice and cozy.

The both of you stared at each other for a few moments, you could feel the heat of the sunbeams hit you from the window behind you. In the lighting.. You looked like an angel. Or at least someone softer than you present yourself being in Buckys' eyes.

"Thanks for last night.. Again."

"'s not a problem." He gave a lazy shrug as he tilted his head a bit on the pillow so that he was completely facing you. "Glad I could help."

"Sorry I, uh-" You took a small breath and let out a breathy chuckle. "Kinda.. Am rude t'you."

"It's fine. 'm sorry if I offended you at all before."

A small snort left your body as you shook your head against the pillow, your brows furrowed in confusion. "You really don't know why I hate you?"

He shook his head. And honestly? You didn't really know either. It was just.. Small things that annoyed you, they all piled up and you just began to huff and puff every time Bucky was around.

".. Honestly, I don't really know either."

He stared at you unblinking before he let out a small chuckle, licking the top of his lip before shaking his head. His brow raising a bit as he stared at you.. Your face grew hotter under his gaze. "So.. I've been missing out on you, 'cause of a reason you don't know?"

"Y'don't have to say it like that."

"I am saying it like that though."

The both of you stared at each other, deadpanned before you both burst out laughing. It felt so stupid now, the both of you could have been friends but you just didn't let yourself.

You kept laughing just a few seconds after Bucky stopped. Wiping your eyes, you looked back at him and there he was - the softest look on his face as he looked at you. A small smile tugging at his lips as you locked eyes.. Was he always this close? Was he always this pretty?

".. Thank you." You repeated for the billionth time.

"Like I said. Don't mention it." He chuckled, shifting a bit closer to you, the tips of your noses touching. "I'm here for you.. Surprisingly."

A small chuckle left your lips as you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips..

"Y'know.. You're really pretty when you're mad." Bucky whispered - maybe it was a compliment or a joke, but it made your heart flutter. "Every time y'start yelling at me.." he trailed off as he leaned forward.

Your lips met slowly. Not hot or bothered, nothing of the sort, but soft and kind. His hand went up to the back of your neck as he cradled you.

This - this would be the first kiss of many that the two of you would share in the future. And he wouldn't break his word, every time you'd panic, every time you had a nightmare, he was there. And he'd never leave your side ever.

|| i think this is genuinely one of my worst fics, so i'm so sorry to the anon who requested this :'(. i've been so tired this whole summer gang, and i apologize profously

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mandy-asimp · 2 days ago

Text

A promise of love

Larissa Weems x reader

summary: its senior year and the last year to finally throw the biggest parties. Only this year you're not backing down from getting the girl of your dreams.

Warnings- language, drinking, teenage angst

Masterlist

The senior summer party. Took place at your family's lake house. Every year. Tradition. It's a party at the start and end of senior year.

So when it got close, rumors buzzed about who you weren't inviting. Yet, nobody but you had for sure knew. Most claiming that you wouldn't invite Morticia Addams, and she would stare daggers at you everyday.

You're sure if she could she'd have real ones in no time. Each time you caught her you would give her a sly smirk just to irritate her. Sometimes flirting just for the fun of it.

The day for invites got closer and closer. They had no idea how you were going to deliver them. Nobody wanted to either. Loving the suspense it brings.

Every single step you took you could hear your name.

It followed you till you were at your dorm. The feeling of eyes making you turn. There was Morticia and her roommate.

Larissa Weems. The one you were absolutely smitten by every time. The way she was so elegant. Her competitive side showing during the Poe Cup every year since you could remember. You watched her every year. Not in some creepy way! But in an observer type of way.

Your eyes skipped the ravenette all together and to her roommate. Taking in the soft smile on her face at how you were just recognizing her existence. You knew she felt as if she was living in Morticia's shadow. You saw it every time they were together. But you always knew she was there.

You wanted to invite her into the conversation, but anytime you tried Morticia would take your time to speak before you could get out a single noise.

Snapping back to reality, you rushed into your room. Hoping it wasn't as much time of you spacing out as you think. And when you looked in your mirror you knew it was, your cheeks were burning red.

You daydreamed too close to the sun, and now your all burned.

While trying to calm yourself, there was a knock on the door. You called for them to enter, not thinking who was obviously walking in. Coming out your bathroom, you were stunned to see the pair standing in the middle of your room. "Larissa, Tish, what can I do for you?" You hummed. Trying to ignore that your cheeks were fuming again.

"I just wanted to talk about the party!" Tish spun you and sat in your desk chair. "You have invited me right? I mean invitations are coming out but I figured I should know early?" She flashed that smile. The one that has everyone wrapped around her finger.

You casually shrug, finding something to busy your hands with. "Yeah, I know, but everyone is gonna find out when they will. Its rules nobody knows until the day. No exceptions!" You flashed your bright teeth.

"Oh, but for me? Pretty please?" She batted her lashes. You furrowed your brows at her. Trying to figure out what she was doing.

"Are....Are you trying to flirt the answer out of me or something?" You said out loud. Getting a small chuckle from the roommate and Morticia blushing in her spot. "...that was a little crazy you did that. But no matter what, the answer is coming out of me. Also, I'm flattered, but you're just not my type either." You put you sweatshirts away. You were packing you overnight bag.

"You better not do something you'll regret." She glared at you. You laughed at it internally but smiled to her.

"I should finish packing, you as well." You hummed. Gesturing to the door. "Big night coming soon." You gave a small hint. But you weren't looking at Tish, you were speaking to Larissa. And the room knew it.

The two fled your room. Larissa shocked you even would talk to her. Morticia sat her down and the two talked about what just happened.

"What?! Have you been flirting with them?!" The shorter was quick to throw out. "I mean why would she say anything to you when I am right there?"

Larissa, still trying to sort her head out, just stared dazed while the roommate ranted.

The few days had passed, leaving you in class on a Wednesday. Still no announcement about the party yet. Until the last bell.

Right before it rang, a school text got sent out.

Friday, 3:33 am.

Was all it stated. Curiosity erupted from the students around you, eyes training on you. Yet you could only stare at the blonde who sat on the other side of the room.

Watching intently as a frown dawned on her face. Her phone didn't go off like everyone else's. She searched for you, finding your eyes already on her.

Your face rested. Lacking any clue to what you were thinking. Her face caught a hint of color once the bell rang and brought you both back.

Oddly, neither of you moved from your seats. That wasn't until the class was empty. You made the move. Walking up to stand in front of her desk and look down at her.

Staring into her blue eyes and getting lost instantly. "Larissa." You hummed. Saying it differently from how you have in the past years. "You looked a bit sad?"

"Whatever joke you think your about to play on me, I won't be having any of it." She bit back. Standing up to her full height and now looking down at you. "Truly, find someone else."

You smiled at her, before shamelessly letting your eyes roam. Snapping them back up, looking innocently through your lashes. There was that blush again. "I wanted to give you a more special invitation. Cause that's what you deserve. Not the same one everyone is getting on Friday."

"What are you saying?" Larissa furrowed her brows. Drowning more confused when you beckoned her with a single finger. Yet, she followed you as you walked out the classroom. Not paying attention to the curious eyes of your classmates as she followed you.

Whispers of her being your lost puppy finally found hit your ears and you could only smile wider at the thought. Having such a woman begging for you? Now you could get used to such a thing.

You lead her to her own room, pushing open the door for her. She stared inside, but when she went to turn and ask you, you were gone.

On her bed sat a variety of things. A fancy envelope, one with a wax seal, a rose, and bag from the store in town. Her heart pounded in her chest and she couldn't figure out the right words to describe what she felt. There were too many but not a single one sounded right. Charmed? Flattered? Loved? Adored?

Friday night had dawned and you were already at the lake house. Waiting for people to arrive one by one. Thankful for when a huge group of your friends and theirs showed up at once, meaning it wouldn't be weird. It wasn't long before the party really commenced. And by ten you were in the truth or dare game.

"Y/n. Truth or dare?" Morticia asked you with a mischievous grin.

"Truth." You held a steady tone. Happy you had a strong tolerance for how much you already had drank.

"Out of everyone here, who would you fuck first?" She had expected her name to come out first. That she was the one you wanted.

Morticia was a woman of wanting to be better than Larissa. And with you being one Larissa talked about and wrote about, she saw it as an advantage. It was a competition that was unfair from the very beginning.

You thought. Eyes jumping around the entire house. Landing on the tall, statuesque woman. A smile tugging at your lips. "I'll give you more than my truth. If I'm going into this year right and how I planned, I'm marrying Larissa Weems before we're 21." You couldn't tear your eyes away. Staring with hearts as she was in a group of friends.

"WHAT?!" Morticia shouted over the music. The whole party turning to look at the game, some snickering at the outburst while others tried to tune in.

"Hear me out! What's not to like about her? She's got height, soft eyes that hold so much authority when needed, her hair looks perfect daily, the style, the humor, how she has a real laugh that only comes out when she gets told a really funny joke, and then the small smile she'll give when standing next to you." You were rambling. Someone needed to stop you. "But I think what makes me want to like...fuck her is the fact that she's a woman, and I love me a woman. But she's a whole lot of woman, and I would do anything for that much woman! And I stand by my opinion with a wide grin."

"So then you should say something. You basically have her wrapped around your finger." A friend, Jade, had put out. A knowing smirk on her lips, she knew you couldn't back down from anything with alcohol in you.

You hummed over the idea. Shrugging at what the harm could be. You were just a bit drunk, and you were conscious of that fact. But it didn't stop you from leaving the group, and a frustrated Morticia. You made your way through people, never breaking focus on the target.

People suddenly went quiet once you were in front of her. Cameras were being pulled out as you just stood there, waiting for her to realize you were there.

She was talking with a few friends, and was smiling naturally with each word. Her eyes were fixated on her drink and how the ice swirled when she moved the straw.

You always were more bold with alcohol. It's how your finger slid under her chin to make her look up at you. "Hi beautiful" You smiled at her. Beaming your most honest smile at the sight of her.

Larissa was burning at the nickname. She mumbled out your name. Afraid to break the moment that was suddenly just you two.

"You're so pretty, did you know that? Especially wearing the dress I left for you. I knew you'd look good in it. When I saw it, I couldn't stop thinking about you in it, and even after tonight I probably won't stop. You're so captivating Larissa." You leaned on the table, getting closer to her. The smell of the drinks you had hitting her nose.

"You've drank. I don't think you should say things that only hurt others." She wanted to look away, getting ready to turn her head.

But you grabbed a hold of her face a bit more firmly. Narrowing your eyes at her. "You think I left everyone a gift?" You frowned on your words. You went closer, nose's touching. "You're the only one who has my attention Weems." You whispered, lips brushing against hers.

You pulled away and floated off. Rejoining the circle and resuming the party. Everyone went with it too.

By midnight everyone was out on the lakes edge. Stripping from their attire and into bathing suits. Everyone followed, but you lingered. Larissa stood away from it all. Watching as people carelessly got in. Not wanting to do the activity, afraid of what everyone would think.

"Rissa," you broke into her thoughts. Sneaking up on her, you watched the conflict in her eyes. "You shouldn't care what they all think. You're easily the hottest woman here." You complimented her with so much honesty.

She blushed looking down, "not everyone is as kind as you." She stared off, but not for long as you came in front of here. Grabbing her hand and pulling her down to everyone. She didn't like where you were going with this. "Truly I'm ok up here."

"It's your last year. You are a sexy creature and hiding it is so lame now and days. We're all weird here. And it sounds cheesy, but literally none of us are normal. You can literally turn into anyone, but you stay you. Because you're more than enough. You're Larissa fucking Weems. Act like it."

There was a wide smirk on you face as you lifted off your top. Revealing the top that hugged your body in ways that should be illegal. And soon your bottoms were off.

You grabbed the hem of her shirt. "Just keep looking at me," you nodded slowly. Waiting patiently as she took off the top. Larissa wore a white, angelic two piece. You couldn't help the need to look. And when you got back to her eyes she was blushing heavily.

She was stunning.

You didn't think twice before you were pulling her head down to you and crashing your lips. It was fierce. It was heated. It was long overdue.

Pulling away, your breathing was erratic and Larissa's chest was matching her face. You grinned like the Cheshire Cat. And then you ran off.

Leaving your woman baffled, appalled even, by the action. She turned to find you, seeing you in the water staring. Water dripping from your body as you could only smile when she complied and got in with you.

The rest of the night was history.

Monday came along and everyone hummed and buzzed about the party. Videos were finally being shared, along with pictures.

The video you stared at was the one of you and Larissa. You were observing every detail. Thankful for the music that played over your talking.

You eyes only left the screen the moment the young woman walked in. You eyed her cautiously, not wanting to be coming off too strong. She took her seat and pulled out all her work. Never once looking in your direction and it made you worry you did too much now. You had kissed her that night. Did she think it was truly just the alcohol speaking?

Not getting the chance to get your answer as your teacher walked in. A knowing smile on his face at how tired everyone was.

That class flew by though, everyone rushing to leave so they could take a nap or anything.

You lingered around, waiting to see what your blonde would do. Would she leave and not say a word? Or would she approach you finally?

Larissa could feel you staring at her the entire class period. It made her stomach twist. She truly wanted to believe you had forgotten and that it was the alcohol, but she couldn't forget. She had only a single drink and shot. But who knows how many you had...

"Ladies?" Your teacher broke into both your thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

Larissa glanced at you, a small frown tugging at her lips. You were staring at her and waiting for her. "Yes, sorry. Just got lost in the work I guess." She dismissed, packing in a frantic manner.

You'd never seen her so disheveled. He called to you. Making you finally tear your eyes away from her and to your desk. Your empty notes laid in front of you. "Your notes are empty."

"I was...distracted I guess. More than usual." Your voice was quiet. Tired even. "Is there anyway I can stay and get them from you, sir?"

"I wish I could, but I have meetings in five. Ms. Weems, could you lend your notes?" He turned to her, putting her in the spotlight.

You saw how she hesitated. "It's ok, I can get them from someone else. I don't want to impose or anything. Thank you though," you rushed out the room.

Cheeks slightly flushing as tears threatened you. In your eyes, you had fucked everything up. Why did you have to be so bold? You could've gone all year quiet like you did for the past few. She wouldn't even look at you!

You opened your door, thankful your roommate transferred out. Carefully setting your things down, you wanted to change out of the suffocating uniform. Out of the reminder that you go to this school. That you're a real person. That you messed up the one thing you had going. All because of this damn uniform and school and all its brought you.

You were getting frustrated when your hands were shaking so bad you couldn't undo the buttons. The knock at your door interrupting you.

You let out a frustrated groan and swung open the door. Wiping your face aggressively of the heated tears before anyone could get a good look at you. You didn't bother seeing who it was as you walked away and tried at the buttons one more time. Seriously ready to rip the white shirt off your body.

"Let me help you," a soft British voice came. You wanted to cry even harder. You turned and dropped your hands, looking at the wall next to you instead of her. Trying to ignore the rush of excitement as she unbuttoned one at a time, now was really not the time.

Once it was done, you stood there. Open shirt. You could see a hint of your scar in the mirror by the door. Her eyes on it finally making your mind swarm with embarrassment. Nobody's ever seen it.

You took pride in your witches scar. You got it in one of your crazy childish rituals you used to do. But it was from the one time you had succeeded and found out you were a witch. Your parents were ready to hide it forever, if they could, but you embraced it with open arms. It made your grandmother proud to know that being a witch wasn't gone forever in the family.

You stepped back, then to change. Grabbing a graphic crewneck and a pair of shorts, you swiftly changed. Ignoring the fact Larissa was still in your room, staring at you.

Your shirt was on the floor in a pile with your skirt, leaving you in nothing but undergarments. "Can we talk?" She whispered into the air. Yet somehow, her words were tickled your neck as if she was directly behind you.

You turned to face her, eyes slightly red from the few tears of earlier. Your voice got stuck and suddenly you couldn't say a single thing.

She moved to sit in your bed's edge, your name rolling from her tongue the same way a brush moves on a canvas. It was art coming from her. "How much did you drink that night?"

You walked closer to her, taking the spot next to her and leaving a little gap. "I had only a few. I wanted to stay as close to tipsy until everyone was there. But truth or dare happened...and I just...." you stared with glossy eyes up at her. The silence built quick and thick, only to be cut with a heavy sigh. "Larissa, and I mean this with so much respect, but you're literally the most oblivious person I've ever flirted with!" You frowned, suddenly back on your feet.

You were across from her now. Standing and looking for her eyes. "Do you genuinely think you're unlikeable in that way?" Your words were soft. You had heard whispers about her always ignoring them when they weren't true. You refused to believe they were.

"I....what?" She hesitated. "Where did you hear that? Not! That its true or anything!" She shot down quickly. Her voice giving her away in a heart beat.

With a sense of boldness, you walked over to her and kissed her hard. Melting at the feeling of her lips against yours. For the first seconds, there was no kiss back, but once it registered, she pulled you onto her. Hands clawing at your hips as the heated kiss went on.

Your hips were grinding on their own as your breathing started to become irregular. Air became a need and you had to pull away. Panting in her lap as she held onto you tighter. "Does that prove I mean it?" You exhaled. "Cause all I want is you. You're the first person I look for in the halls. The first person I speak to. I. Want. You."

She kissed you hard again. Wrapping her arms under your sweatshirt and around your bare waist and pulling your hips to hers. You sat flushed against her. The heat of your bodies together growing and growing by each passing second.

Your hands held her shoulders as a grounding. Desperate to feel grounded to remember this high. But this wasn't how you wanted this. So you stopped. Lightly pushing her shoulders to separate you from her.

"I want you, I do, but not in this order. I want the first date with you and a little goodnight kiss. Not just jumping to sex, I want more than that." You began explaining. Trying to keep it as simple as possible without dumping all your feelings on her.

Her brows pulled together though, she wasn't getting it fully. "You want a relationship?"

You could only look sorry for her. That someone out there made her only feel wanted for one thing. And whoever it was, you would curse for the rest of your years.

"I want dates at the cafe, sleepovers, movie nights, kissing in the rain, dancing in the rain, dinners, anniversaries, holidays, breaks, everything. Larissa Weems, you have done nothing but occupy my every waking thought since freshman year. If you told me you never wanted to have sex with me, I'd be fine. I'm here for you. Your brains. Your heart. Your future." You hold her face in your hands. Searching for anything that could give her reaction.

But you were met with her hurrying her face into your chest and crying. It wasn't what you expected, but you still planned for it. After all, you've thought of this moment for years.

You held her close and just sat with her. Letting her just cry into your sweatshirt. Holding her close to you and slightly rocking with her. Soft reassurance fell from your lips every now and then.

Eventually, Larissa had drained herself and fell asleep with you. It warmed your heart to know she felt safe to cry and sleep around you, but also she cried...all because she couldn't believe the bare minimum.

You would have to save any more questions for tomorrow. Now it was a matter of getting her ready for sleeping. Which you really did expect to be tough, but once you shifted slightly, she was up again. Well...kinda up.

She grumbled and held you tighter. "Rissa...I just wanted to lay down that's all..." you tried to not be too loud. Hoping she understood what you were going on about. It was then she, almost on autopilot, stood up while holding your by the ass. Only to lay back down with you still in her arms.

You were blushing profusely at the hand placement and tried to steady yourself. "Your heart is beating so loud..." Larissa hummed. Her eyes still closed as she laid with you. Her hold was all you needed to know you weren't going anywhere.

You took a deep breath, finally giving in and getting impossibly closer. "I can't help it." We're the last spoken words before you both fell asleep.

Senior smash was right there and you found yourself in the same spot as the beginning. Walking through the halls with your name following you with every step.

You convinced yourself it was because of the invites that were supposed to be sent out today and not the mysterious box that you carried atop of your books. The one that was all black with a silver heart lock, on the back hidden from the view of everyone else were initials.

As you stepped into study hall, you smiled at your eager peers, the ones who have heard the tiny details you've let up about the party this year. Only you didn't say anything to feed their hunger. Instead you found your seat and cracked open your book. Trying to not let the box distract you. Nor the beauty that waltzed in with a cunning smile.

Ever since you and Larissa had gotten around the bush, you've watched how your love has changed her for the better. She no longer hides in Morticia's shadow, never lets anyone command her, she commands them. Her blue eyes never had to ask you for your attention anymore, you willingly showered her with it. To most it seemed you were the lost puppy now with how you blushed anytime she came around. You'd turn beet red anytime she placed a kiss to the top of your head. People would watch you stand in awe even after she turned the corner.

"Hello darling," she greeted lowly once she got closer to you. She was using her seductive voice on you and you knew what it was about. You hadn't even given your own girlfriend special privileges (maybe a little more details than your peers). What was unusual though was how she knelt in-front of your desk, resting her head on the dark wood.

"Aren't you supposed to be at mammal anatomy?" You began playing with her bangs. Trying not to dwell on the fact she was on her knees before you, it wasn't in that way but you couldn't help the idea of it.

"I was just on my way and thought I'd stop by. Rumor is you have a mysterious box?" She quirked a brow and glanced up at you. Then towards the black box. "This it?"

You got protective and tried to causally grab the object before her. "It's for something later..which reminds me, can we push our date back just by an hour? I have something important to do before."

"And what could it be?" She grew curious about your sudden mystery. Larissa had met many sides of you, the mystery one being one she saw trouble in constantly.

You pulled the box into you and hugged it close. "Witchcraft." You had a sparkle in your eye that was only proving her right. You were up to trouble. "You should get going, Rissa. I wouldn't want your pretty self to be caught in detention before a big night." You winked at her before offering a hand to help her up.

She took it with a huff and stood, but right before she let go she felt the warmth of your lips press to her knuckles. Larissa swore her heart stopped at the simple gesture.

The rest of the day went smoothly. Classes were just a few notes, and lunch was your favorite again. By three, phones were dinging with the first tease of invites. You were in the dining hall when it happened. Eyes focusing on the many eyes that grew eager and glanced to you. But once again, you were immersed in a book. Something you had taken up more recently.

However with the prying eyes you couldn't seem to focus. So you packed up and read on your way to your room. Weaving through everyone without an issue. You figured you'd read until the sun went down, then go do your ritual at sundown in the woods.

It was nothing dark, it was an enchantment you heard word of. It brings good luck for relationships if both parties are willing for it. The success rate is still unreported but you figured there couldn't be anything too big at stake. You had planned to do it and then propose it to Larissa. If she accepted it then the universe would listen to the calls for sure and bless them for a long healthy relationship. It made you nervous to think of no matter what though.

You had spent every night since the first praying to the stars above that it would be right with her. You vowed your entire heart to her on many starry nights. Larissa Weems was the woman you wanted to marry and grow forever with.

The worries were squashed though once you hit your room. Larissa was already inside and laying in your bed. "No special invite this time?"

"It's not done...but I could give you an invite to hold the spot." You wiggled your brows as you joined her on the mattress. Laying on your stomach as she laid on her side and propped up by her arm. You couldn't help the love that slipped into your gaze. "Are you nervous I won't invite you?"

"Maybe, or maybe I'm nervous you don't think I'm special anymore." She joked so easily about it. The small creases near her eyes were the sign she really did mean it as a joke. That she knew how wrong such a statement about you was.

"I love you." You whispered. Completely out of breath. You felt like you were floating suddenly. That your body was weightless.

Larissa had stopped smiling however, sitting up and pulling you into her lap with ease. Her hands firmly holding your hips so you couldn't run from what she was about to make you do.

Over the few months of dating Larissa, you had gotten to really see the side she hid from the light. The part she claimed was broken and beyond repair. But with you, there's always a fix, it just takes the right solution.

One thing you always made sure of, was making sure your feelings got through to her and she knew you weren't playing with her. There were many times where you had been in this position and it was Larissa who would be stuck. She never believed you could have so much love for just one person until she met you.

"Say it again." Her crystal lakes shined perfectly in the light.

"I love you Larissa. I love you. I love you. I. Love. You." You kept letting the words roll off your lips as she stared in awe at you. Hearing each and every time you said it.

Larissa began to feel the same weightlessness. Fingers tightening around you as she crashed her lips to yours. Ignoring the happiest tears as they rolled past her temples. The blonde was too caught in the feeling she had craved for so long. The feeling of pure love. You loved her. She had no reason to ever doubt you.

You pulled back and hands were on her cheeks in mere moments, wiping away her tears. "My stars, I love you Larissa. I want to spend my forever appreciating you, loving you, listening to you-"

She cut you off with a shorter kiss now. Her own grin being warming and inviting. "When that time comes, I'll happily make you Mrs. Weems." Your eyes sparkled at the title and it made your body twist in delight. Larissa laughed and gave you just one more kiss. "I love you too, darling. But for now, I have a date to go get ready for so I will see you later."

You hummed but glanced at the clock, "You still have like five hours?" Larissa usually got ready within an hour, maybe an hour and a half. You've watched her a few mornings before classes. "Plus, where are you going when all your stuff is in here?"

"The girls and I have been planning this get ready since you asked me out suspiciously last week." She winked at you, effortlessly picking you out her lap and getting up.

You fell over and laid in her spots warmth. Eyes watching as she collected a few things and slipped on her slippers. "I wasn't suspicious. Asking you out still makes me extremely nervous ya' know."

"Is that gonna be your excuse even after we hit a year? I still make you nervous after almost nine months?" She tilted her head to meet your saddening gaze. You hated to see her go, but you loved to watch her leave.

You let out a dramatic sigh before pushing yourself up and to the edge of your bed. Standing tall on your knees as she stood in front of you. "Clearly you already underestimate how deep my love runs...maybe I could show you one day?"

She smirked at you, "save it for the night you propose. Then I'll never underestimate your love after that." Larissa shook her head at the gasp you let out.

"That's how long I have to wait before giving you it all?! That's like a forever away." You frowned playfully, countering it by leaning into her and placing a kiss to her soft lips. "You're gonna be a wreck when that night comes I hope you know."

Larissa chuckled to that, "you gonna love me that much?"

"Oh baby you can bet your sweet ass I am." You were so confident on the matter. Mostly because you knew it was true, you were going to marry this woman. And along with it was Larissa, how could you not love her forever?

"I will see you later, my lovesick lover." She pecked your cheek, quickly as she could sense your urge to pull her down and stall more time sharing delicate kisses.

And then suddenly, you were alone on the bed sighing in content at what had been shared. Larissa Weems officially knew someone loved her. That everyone was wrong about her, and it just took the right moment.

While Larissa was off getting ready and sharing moments to her friends, you were deep in the woods. Far off Nevermore property, alone in the trees. Your hands shook a bit from the cool breeze and from the unfamiliar unease. You always felt confident when using magic.

But as the full moon began to come into the sky, you had only one chance now or you'd have to wait all over again. Glossy eyes stared up to the blending of day and night. Your lips chanting their practiced plead. Hands waving over the box that would be treasured forever.

The winds around you grew, picking up the leaves and a few branches. Swirling swift circles around you as you kept chanting. A branch had caught your arm briefly, scratching it as it passed. Then another. And Another. The stars must've been testing your devotion finally.

Were you willing to bleed for this woman?

Yes.

Were you willing to go the lengths for her?

Always.

Were you willing to truly love her forever?

Entirely.

At any risk?

You'd risk it all.

Prove it.

A crash of lightening shook the world around you, the tree next to you taking the hit as it fell over and burnt into nothing but embers. You swallowed thickly, it was set perfectly now for her.

You took a minute to settle your trumpeting heart. It was so loud, you don't think you ever heard it beat this hard before. It amazed you. The physical effect of loving her was strong for you. Your body naturally responded to the thought of her, even when she was around, you fit perfectly to her.

Your body buzzed as you collected the box and your journal back into your bag. Your mind focusing on the charged feeling as you headed back to campus. Lost in such a daze of your own spell still, you missed the calling of your name. It was when arms wrapped around you had you really faded back into reality. You were back at the school covered in your own blood. How many branches got you?

"W..Where the hell have you been?" Whoever it was seemed shaken up. And when they pulled back you stared up at the aged face. It was Jade..but way older. "We..we need to get you to the Nurse...or maybe a hospital.."

Your lost eyes scanned over the yard. All the students were staring right back at you, yet these were kids you had never seen before. Something went wrong...something bad...

Jade had led you to the nurse, explaining what hectic situation just got opened up as you sat on the stool and let the light be shined into your eyes. it was pointless for how distant your stare was. "It just seems like a tree attacked the poor thing..these cuts they range from deep to barely scratches." The nurse concluded.

"What should we do?" Jade stepped closer and cupped your paled face. Turning it and examining the skin under smudges. "What the hell happened that night?"

The sound of heels clicking quickly against the floor caught your attention. Getting your lazy eyes to focus at the doorway for whoever was making their way down the hall.

You saw the smooth leg come around first, demanding your eyes to the sharp heels and then up the statuesque figure. Sighing in relief to meet Larissa's look of disbelief. The tears so quickly gathered in her aged eyes and she crept cautiously.

You hated the feeling of these cautious stares and confused glances. You were missing something horribly important and it was overwhelming. Everyone was older and it didn't make any sense.

Tears of your own began to spill, "what's happening..?" You croaked and the sound of your teenage voice brought Larissa to her knees. Suddenly your own confusion was lost as you willed your body to be on the floor with her, your bag falling next to you both. "No...no tears. What? What can I do?" You were in a panic almost. The same way you were anytime she came to you with tears in her eyes. Eager to make her smile again.

Cool hands held your face and Larissa analyzed every detail. Not understanding how it was all the same from all those years ago. "Where did you go?" She whispered just to you.

The beating of your heart seemed to grow more and more as you tried to really recall what you were doing only an hour ago. "I.. I was finishing up your gift. I wanted it to be as special as possible and I was. I was wishing to the stars for it to work. I swore it was the box..the box..your gift..." You felt foolish for forgetting the most important thing right next to you. "I was gonna give it to you on our date tonight." You scrambled to pick it all up.

"Darling...you've been missing for nearly thirty years." Larissa finally gave you the missing key.

You blinked and slowly brought the objects in your lap. That couldn't be right. You were in the woods for one full moon. You were doing the spell you heard of from a fellow witch and it was only an hour. You had a date with Larissa in a few minutes. That's what was supposed to be happening.

"This is a joke right?" You needed a second now, backing up and sitting on the floor. Eyes really taking in the updated nurses office now. It was nothing like the one you had been in many times. Then you stared at the two girls still watching from the doorway. One looked just like a mini Morticia and the other a bundle of joy.

A shaky hand rummaged in your pocket for the spell you had written down. Your eyes traced over each letter. What type of spell did you cast? The words were in something just off of latin, easy to mistranslate.

"You haven't aged a single day." She stated, using her own hand to tilt your head back. Even under all the dirt and cuts, she could just see the face she missed for so long. "They searched every inch of those woods for you, I made sure of it...but were you ever in the woods?"

In the moment you finally took a good look at your body. Covered in the dirt that spun around you. The blood from how the sticks attacked you stained the edges of the ripped fabric from your shirt. It was the button up from the old uniforms. Jade and Larissa knew that.

The blonde woman sighed, grabbing the paper from you hand carefully and inspecting it herself. It was the only clue they had to figure anything out. "This is the spell you casted, yes?"

"It was supposed to be a good luck spell for our relationship...not that we'll need it really, but extra luck never hurts." You were still twisting your body around. "My mom's gonna kill me for ruining another shirt, especially this close to graduation."

Larissa, worried even more, handed the paper over to the blonde girl. "Enid, you and Wednesday go see what you can find out about this. Report back to my office before dinner." Enid saluted before dragging the other along with her to the library. Her attention was immediately back on you.

Her mind reeling as she just watched you inspect yourself. How was she going to tell your parents? What was the witch community going to do when they catch word? After all, you were a legend name.

"Darling why don't we get you cleaned up, hmm? Then we can all have a chat about what happened?" Her tender touch found your jaw and she gave you a sad smile. "You can come shower in my quarters."

"Your quarters?"

"I run the school now...you've missed a lot..."

Your face fell, that's right. You were missing for twenty years. "Will you catch me up?" Was softly spoken as your eyes begged for her comfort.

"There's a lot too catch you up on, I don't think well get through it all tonight." She hummed in agreement. Larissa stood first holding a hand out for you to follow.

Even in the situation, you couldn't help the hard swallow at how beautiful she was.

After a few hours, you were cleaned from the woods and in a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt. Old socks covering your feet as you sat near the fireplace in her office.

Larissa sat on the couch and was just telling you everything that happened end of senior year following your disappearance. Everyone was shaken by it and the witches that year went restless till they figured out what had happened. Letting Larissa in on every detail they managed which was almost nothing.

"How far out did you even go?" She had finally asked. Dying to know how far she didn't go.

You mulled over how long you had gone for. "I sprinted south of the campus for about... fifteen minutes? If I had calculated it right, which let's be honest, I probably didn't, I should've been off campus. I think I was still on it though."

"Darling, that's only about two miles. Of course you weren't off school grounds. South of the school goes for at least ten miles. They bought the land back there for the werewolves to run freely when needed. We've expanded the grounds ever since." Larissa softly chuckled. You always were bad at math.

The knock at the door interrupted though. Her voice carried nicely through the air, granting access to whoever it was knocking. In had walked Enid and Wednesday, the blonde beaming with pride, while the ravenette stared blankly at you. Your stare back mirrored hers.

"The spell was early impossible to find! But thanks to Wednesday's eye for a puzzle, she figured it out. It's been used to vanish for periods of time without any effects. Most used it to escape from past witch hunters. " The young girl explained effortlessly.

You tried to think of why they would've told you it was a luck of love spell. "Can it be undone?" Came quick from you, moving from the ground next to Larissa on the couch. "Is it possible to send me back?"

"Right we figured you'd ask! So we looked into that as well and the only thing we found was some indie website with a reversal spell. It needs everything that sent you here." She handed you the slip of paper that had the spell written on it.

You eyed it skeptically before taking it anyways. "I need to go back out there. " You turned to Larissa, desperate for some help. But when you finally took in her expression, she was beyond sad at this point. It made you hesitate for just a moment. "I'm not trying to leave you 'Rissa...I want to go back so I know I can be here when I'm mean to be. We can't grow old together if you get there before me. Larissa of 91' is expecting me for a date tonight."

"It's just...you were gone for so long, and then you show up, only to be gone again." She laid out her view for you. Giving you the understanding of how much your reappearance has stirred up.

You grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. Grinning as she still blushed like a teenager. "If I go back, you'll never have had to feel what loosing me feels like. I told you Larissa, I love you. I love you so much, that when I get back and we graduate I'm going to propose to you. Before we are 21, I promise you my entire future. I want to see how this beautiful woman before me becomes Principal of Nevermore."

A tear escaped from her perfectly done eyes. "I've missed you so much."

"I'll be home and ready to take you on that date before you even know it." You kissed her temple soundly. Lingering so she really knew all those years ago your words were always true.

You jumped from the couch, eagerly rummaging through your bag. Grabbing ahold of the black box and bringing it back over. There you glanced over to the two waiting teens and blushed.

"Girls.." Larissa didn't even tear her eyes from you when she whispered their dismissal.

They didn't wait any longer, mostly cause the one with braids was pulling her counter part. Closing the large wooden doors.

"Earlier in the day..you asked me about this box. I said it was nothing really but, it is something. In it we'll both write premature vows, burn the box in the bonfire, and it should be a in the hands of ancestors if done right with the right person." You explained with tracing over the boxes details. The groves calming your nerves.

Larissa sighed, "I thought you always said to never do love spells. You could never be certain of the person." She brushed a hand through your hair, humming with familiarity.

"I love you Larissa Weems. I always will. That's how I know." You beamed widely. The words made your body tingle and feel light. "I have to get going my love, but I promise." You placed a caring kiss to her forehead.

You had slipped away from her and found your muddy boots. Racing back out the school in nothing but the loaned pajamas. Heavy footsteps carrying you back into the woods you were just carried from this morning.

Larissa watched you from the rooftops as you ran quickly thought the woods. It was then she had noted an interesting fact, your emotions literally lit up the world for you. A pale green light showed you through the woods and you followed it.

Jumping over branches until the light had simmered out in front of you. Leaving the moon to be the only thing to light up the woods for you.

And just like the first time, you began chanting the spell and the wind began to pick up back around you. This time it was warm and welcoming. No branches to reopen any wound or make anew.

Another crash of lighting and you were sprinting north towards the school. Fingers crossed that it had worked and you would find your teenage sweetheart ready for a date.

You needed something to confirm you made it back first. You couldn't go search for Larissa right away, no. The adventure you just had would be something you had to really sit down and tell her about.

Your fastest answer was whatever answer was on the headmaster's office. Either it would be the name you dreaded seeing, Headmaster Wilkins. Or it'd be the name you one day hope accompanies yours.

On the way though, you caught sight of Larissa's friends looking a little frantic. Only for them to spot you as well and sigh in relief. "Jesus! There you are!" The brunette, Melonie, threw her hands up.

"What the hell happened to you..." Meeka, the others twin, took you in up and down. Noting the pajamas and cleaned up cuts.

"That's beside the point, Larissa is gonna be ready in twenty minutes, and she was freaking on your lack of response. Seriously you need to get moving." Melonie was instantly dragging you towards your own dorm.

The entire time she helped you get ready, mumbling about how stressed you made the woman and so forth. Meanwhile you could only smile knowing you were back.

You were beyond excited to see her finally. How your heart and mind agreed and craved to see the statuesque woman right before you. The beauty of her youth being nothing compared to the breathtaking looks of her future.

You sat at dinner, rosy cheeks as you listened intently to Larissa talk about her day. You honestly wondered if she'd mention earlier and your lack of appearance.

"And then everyone was asking if you even invited me yet. Your parties proceed you." She hummed to an end of her story. Big blue eyes sparkling in the dim light above the table. "So, are you going to invite me?"

You couldn't help the chuckle that fell from your lips, "I didn't dream of having a party without you." You smiled widely as you reached for the box again. A flash of your future coming through as it was settled on the table. "I did something today...something risky."

Larissa's brows had furrowed at the confession, "and what was that my dear?"

Fingers fiddled with the details. "Henson gave me a spell, it was trusting him that was the first risk. The second was actually going through the whole thing." You didn't need to look up to know she was wearing her disapproving look on.

"You know he gives nothing but mischievous spells out hun," she tried not to be so strict on you. In your eyes it seemed you already felt like a child being scolded.

"I know...yeah....but I couldn't help it. I pondered it for a while but it just seemed harmless. It definitely wasn't though, but I survived it. And now I can sit here and tell you."

"The box is enchanted. A protection for our love and the universes guidance. We write premature vows, never read them, never speak them, but we put them in the box and they morph into a manifestation." You explained it so simply, keeping out the other important part. You didn't need to worry her about much.

Larissa grabbed ahold of the box and your fidgeting hands. "You risked yourself for a good luck potion?"

Your body rattled with emotions at the question. "Yes." You finally met her worried gaze, she was staring at you like you were finally insane. "I love you beyond my own being. I...I already told you I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I dunno..maybe I was the one who was actually scared you'd finally realize just how amazing you are and then realize that I'm not the one giving you that all, I want to be. I try to be. But nothing is forever certain, yet I know my love for you is."

There was a long stretch of silence as she really processed your words. The confiding in her over your own fear was something still relatively new.

It had started with your slight needs of reassurance , they were never to big, always something like an extra kiss or a squeeze to the hand. Then it had grown to you just barely mentioning common things you were afraid of; spiders, heights, flying bugs. But now it was this leap to a genuine fear.

The way your eyes glossed as you spoke so softly. How your hands still managed to twitch under hers, she could feel the warmth from the excessive magic between her hands. You were getting overwhelmed.

"It's ok, you're ok. We're ok my love. I don't want anyone besides you either. You've shown me nothing but your love and have brought me out of my own solitude into your amazing world. We can do this, your good luck charm." She raised a hand to cup your cheek. You loved the smile she gave you, soft and gentle.

And so, you began to pull out two pieces of paper and two pens. A quiet chant came from under your breath.

Larissa watched you cast, something she's never had the honor of seeing. But in front of her, greens whisper around carefully. And she swore she felt it as well coursing through her own body. It was like a cool rush through her veins.

Once done, you handed her a paper and pen. Glancing up at her with deeply flushed cheeks and blown pupils, you felt your breath hitch as she was glued to your every move. You didn't speak as you began to write.

The blonde followed suite and wrote in her own silence as well, feeling the tingle of magic in the ink with every word.

Then you both folded them in half and placed them carefully in the box, along with the pens as well. You had chanted one more time and just like that, you had sealed the box shut for good.

"Thank you..." weakly spilled from your mouth. You grabbed the box off the table and slipped it into your tote. Only you pulled back out a velvety ring box and an envelope. Setting them cautiously on the table. Larissa furrowed her brows now. There's no way this was your idea of proposing... "no, just open them." You lightly laughed.

Her manicured hand reached for both. Starting with the envelope, knowing it would be more special regardless but because you wrote it. She loved how you wrote specifically for her. A beautiful cursive that was spells in their own curves.

My darling 'Rissa,

There's this party I'm throwing, and you are truly the only person I care enough about to make sure you get this invite. Plus, it'll be like the beginning of the year only this time you know I'm not fucking with you. As for the little box I set down with this note, it's a promise ring. Designed specifically for you. A promise that I will go through anything with you, that I'm not leaving your side. That I'll be your biggest fan everyday and every night. You deserve nothing but best and I promise to give you the best.

I promise to love you for ever.

And you signed it with a heart at the end of your name.

#reader insert #larissa x you #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #wednesday netflix #gwendolineuniverse #fanfic

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cordidy · 2 days ago

Text

When you lose your pet...

Self indulging - if it can help you feel a bit better

TW: loss of pet, grieving, basicaly sadness.

As per usual, english is not my mother tongue. I appologie if I mischaracterize one or more Li, like everyone I'm closer to some than others but I tried to remain faithfull to the way I see them.

❄️ Zayne - the Handler❄️

When it happens you're a mess and he knows it, so Zayne handles everything.

He sets the appointment, he hold you both when the time comes for the shot, he deals with the paperwork and pay the vet while you just sit in the waiting room, in shock, before driving you to'his place.

If you are really feeling done he would write you a doctor's note to take some time off so you can mentally rest and not stress about not performing at work.

During th following days, he will switch into full care mode cooking for you even if you're not hungry and, for once, not scolding you if you don't finish your plate, taking care of your routine (hair, skincare you name it)

He doesn't say a thing while doing all this, cause what could he say ? He's so used to deal with death on a daily basis he knows he doesn't process the thing like other people do and is self aware enoughh to be afraid of saying something that will hurt you so he just stays silent.

Will recommand you to a therapist if you feel the need to talk to someone else cause he knows how impacted you are and doesn't want to keep it in juste because you don't like looking vulnerable.

When the urn arrives, he'll offer to pick it up for you and will make room on the shelf to display it if you feel like it.

He will come with you to the appointment but will leave you your space with your pet to say goodbye, holding your hand if it's free or gently rub your back, a way to say "i'm here", but shyly, almost reverent.

⭐️ Xavier - the Copping buddy ⭐️

Over the years, Xavier lost a lot of people due to his nature and he knows everyone has their own copping mechanisms. He doesn't know what are yours but it doesn't matter, he will be down for it.

Eating your feelings away ? He'll order whatever you like and will hit the gym with you WITHOUT COMPLAINING when you feel bad about it.

Getting wasted to forget ? He won't encourage you cause this is not a healthy way of doing things but he won't scold you either. In the end he will take you out "just this once", staying sober to keep an eye on you while you go wild to forget.

Need a change of scenery ? Don't worry, he'll take you somewhere remote where you can relax and reflect.

Don't feel like leaving ? He'll build you a pillow fort and will hold you to sleep under it, kissing your head while you cry.

When the urn arrives he will offer to decorate it with little trinket that remind you both of your pet.

I think he would put it next to the plants you both take care of as a way of making sure your pet is still a part of your lives but he won't say a thing about it in a very "Xavier way", you'll just find out one day.

🐠 Rafayel - the Distraction 🐠

I think you might actually fight over that, you calling him insensitive when he tries to redirect the conversation on something else as you express your feelings.

He can't bear to see you like this so he will try ANYTHING to lift up your mood, to the point it might backfire at him. It comes from a place of love but he just doesn't know how to handle the fact you are so hurt.

He could be the one saying stupid shit like "I don't get it, it was just a pet !" cause his brain panics when he sees how depressed you are weeks after. He doesn't mean it AT ALL but sometimes his mouth doesn't think before speaking.

Deep down, no matter how many times he said he did not like your pet (cause he's jealous as fuck) he actually did like them a lot, even if it's a cat and he feel like shit for not being able to process his feelings when you needed him the most.

It's no secret Sylus is an animal lover and part of me is certain he made Mephisto cause mechanical crows can't die so he will be just as affected as you since he was very close to your pet too.

He will probably design the urn as a surprise for you and a way to ask for forgiveness after you fought.

Hé will probably share Lemurian custom with you when it comes to grieving the lost ones as they are very sensitive creatures (I can see them loving their pets like family members)

He will also paint you together with your pet as a souvenir (I picture a very colorfull and very lively picture, something totally out of his usual work) and will refuse to sell said painting despite Thomas's insistence (poor Thomas doesn't know the whole story)

🐦‍ Sylus - the Griever 🐦‍

Once back home the two of you will probably lock yourself in his bedrom, laying in each others arms and you will probably have to consol him as much as he will have to consol you.

Will a 100% cry with you at the vet and will hide it behind his glasses when you leave.

I think in this scenario, seeing how both of you are impacted, the twin would demonstrate a more serious side of themselves and step up to deal with the paperwork while you and Sylus wait in the car in silence.

I can imagine Mephisto trying to distract the both of you only to end up in the middle of a group hug, cawing for dear life.

I think he would be a mix of Sylus and Zayne like, he would be affected (he is the kind of boyfriend your pet loves more than you lol) but he will still try to handle the things WITH you rather than for you unless you ask for help or demonstrate clear signs of distress.

Over the weeks, he will suggest to make you a mechanical pet too, not to replace the one that left but to try and sooth the absence

While Sylus like to flaunt his money at people, I think in this case he won't when it comes to the urn cause he knows how personnal it is. When you show him the little round one that reminds you of your pet, he won't judge the choice cause it's "the one", even if it's simple or even ugly as hell (cause your pet was your beloved potato) and when you insiste on paying it hé won't say a thing either.

🍎 Caleb - the Reminderer🍎

100% wants to keep the memory of your pet alive. He doesn't want you to cry over their death but rather to celebrate your life together and will talk about them regulary.

Will probably make an album with pictures of you and little trinkets he kept of your pet over the years, a whisker he found while dusting, some fur, their favorite "stupid" toy (like that paper wrap of beer cap).

I think he would be one to suggest comemorative jewelry as a way of always keeping them close to you and if you say yes he'll get one too cause you are in this together.

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theseinfernalangels · 6 hours ago

Note

okay, but to turn the tables......the FW boys when YOU tease THEM, perhaps? no pressure!

Okay, anons...I got three separate asks for this in the fourish hours after I posted that first bit. I see you ;) Also 18+ under the cut, and I'm going to try my best with this since I'm still new at writing anything even vaguely nsfw. Have mercy, I'm scared!

Also, experimenting with different formats with this one.

Dain Aetos

I constantly swing between him being that cute service dom type and the verrrrrry repressed General's son, but I'll go with the first for the sake of accuracy. I think, given the situation, it's a toss up; let's say that you've just pulled a Transformers Megan Fox Moment, solely because you wanted to see how he'd react (which Anya would absolutely do, btw). For a moment, he'd just stand there and blink. Dain.exe has stopped working, except for his eyes, which slowly trail over your body in a way that feels so tangible that you immediately think twice. Why did you do that? Then, you hear a quiet swear in Old Moranian as he rubs his thumb over the bridge of his nose.

"You're killing me," he says, his voice going a tad weak as he takes his place beside you. "In front of everyone? Really?" Endlessly patient, but if you think you're coming out of that unscathed, think again. He'll just do it right back, tracing his fingers on your skin just hard enough that you're immediately met with goosebumps and a need so strong you almost jump his bones. Ah, how the turn tables.

"Dain." Your voice is hushed, dripping with that molten ache that's been taunting him for the past hour. "Come on. That's not fair."

He just chuckles, resting a hand on your cheek gently. "Of course it is. You started it, so I'm sure that means you can take what you've dished, right? I'll make it worth your while if you're good for me."

Bodhi Durran

Probably the only one who reacts the way you truly want them to, because it's so fucking easy to tease him. This guy will get horny if the wind is blowing in the right direction. You could do anything - let's say you briefly, very unintentionally (wink nudge) show him some cleavage, if you have it. Immediately, his breathing changes, and he's shifting in his seat, practically sitting on his hands to prevent himself from grabbing at you. Needs his mouth on you that instant, but you're in public, so he has to wait. And if you do it multiple times? Well. You've got a very needy Bodhi on his knees, when you get back to one of your rooms.

"Fuck." He shudders, digging his fingers into your waist and slowly slipping them under your shirt. "A leannan, please. You can't just do that. You know what you do to me."

Your only response is a quiet giggle, carding your hands through his curls and scratching his scalp gently. "I do. You're cute on your knees, Bodhs."

Your cocky attitude falters, however, once his hands make it to hover just under your breasts. "Please," he begs again, his breath hitting your skin and making your navel contract slightly. "One touch. One taste. Let me have you for tonight."

Silly boy. Doesn't he know he can have you any night?

Ridoc Gamlyn

LMAO, okay. He takes it as a personal challenge to see who can get the most riled up, so for the rest of the evening, it's a constant back-and-forth; he sticks his tongue through two fingers, so you tease your lips with your thumb to get him excited. In return, he presses a hot but chaste kiss just close enough to your sweet spot that you feel it, but not enough to actually give you pleasure, so you just flash him. It goes on for hours until one of you gives in, and the both of you are so stubborn that it could go on for DAYS before someone breaks. In the end, all hell breaks loose at once and he's dragging you away to rail the shit out of you, without the sound shield, because the two of you just don't have the patience to deal with it. I mean, it gets aggressive - ripping each other's clothes off, grabbing each other like you'll die if you let go.

"Fucking hell," he groans, grabbing at your ass and pulling you closer to him - if that's even possible, at this point. "You really had to go and prove a point, huh, sweetheart? You've been working so hard to get satisfaction from your ego when you could have gotten just as much from me."

A whine is ripped from the back of your throat as you attach your lips to the heated, honey-brown skin of his neck, just above his tattoo. "Not sorry," you pant. "And don't act like you weren't doing the exact same thing."

He hisses when you sink your teeth into his flesh, but it dissolves into a breathy laugh. "Touche. At least I got to see how good your mouth can take a whisky bottle. Think you can take me, too, or would that be too much for you?"

Aaric Graycastle

If you think you're going to be able to rile this one up on purpose, you're sorely mistaken. He literally just ignores it. Try as you might, he's not budging. I truly think the only thing that would ever catch him off-guard is if you're clueless about it. It'll only ever work if you're unintentionally teasing him, and he has to pretend like everything is fine when he really needs to be in you, pronto.

"What?" you ask, staring up at him with an adorably puzzled look on your face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Aaric...doesn't respond. How can he, when your hair is all mussed up, you've got gloss shining over your pouty lips, and, worst of all, the strap of your bindings is hanging off your shoulder, practically taunting him. Honestly, he wishes you'd just start goading him into undressing you, because there's no way he can keep staring at you like this before his hands start wandering places they shouldn't.

But they don't. Despite the ache between his legs that has him slowly losing it, he just takes a deep breath and curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palm. He opens his eyes, dilated to the max, and smiles softly. "No, never. I'm just not quite able to focus. Guess I'm...tired, or something."

Oh, he's tired, alright - tired of you not being on his dick right this second.

Sawyer Henrick

You would think, seeing as he hardly reacted to Tynan and Luca taunting him in the first book about being a repeat, that he would be the one with the most patience on this list. And, to an extent, he can be quite the patient man. Where you're concerned, though....Yeah, no. You're done for.

I think, in a newer relationship, it would actually be pretty sweet; he'd get all blushy and shy, quiet when you brush against him or expose a little too much skin (he's a collarbone man for sure). When you get to around that six-month mark, and he's more comfortable in the relationship...Let's put it this way: Imagine you've been teasing him lightly all evening - not enough to warrant a huge reaction or anything, but enough that you're obviously messing with him. He'll go along with it for a little bit; raising an eyebrow, echoing whatever you're saying like it's a question, tilting his head challengingly. It gets to a point, though, where he knows he'd like to act, just to sate you for the night and to satisfy himself. The moment your focus shifts from one thing to another, he's got you pinned by the hips to your desk and his mouth on your navel trailing downward, and then he gets that stupidly smug look when you go utterly silent.

"What? You were being so mouthy just a couple minutes ago. Don't tell me that all it takes is me kissing you to shut you up." You bite down hard into your bottom lip when he sinks his teeth into the plush of your waist, fighting the urge to roll your hips into him with every buzzing nerve in your body. "I think someone's getting cocky."

"Not cocky," you respond, your voice breathless and weak from the way his pupils have all but consumed the green of his irises. "J-jus' wanted to see what you'd do. Got curious."

"Curious?" He looks up from his place on his knees, his hair falling into his face in a way that frames it perfectly. A wry little smile twitches at the corner of his lips, which press into your heated skin lightly. "Curiosity kills, darling. I thought you knew that."

Liam Mairi

It's not often that you're the one teasing him, since he's the flirt of the group. There's hardly a way to catch him visibly off-guard; instead, he just slowly goes insane on the inside until it's too hard to mask. Quite like Sawyer in the way that he mirrors it for a while before he gets the chance to sweep you away, finding some privacy so that he doesn't completely lose it in front of your friends.

The stone of the wall digs into your back, sending a chill that spreads throughout your body into the gasp that inevitably leaves you. Liam, for his part, leans in and chuckles into your ear, dirty, low, and wrecked. "You have no fucking clue what you do to me, you know?"

Despite the way he has you trapped between the wall and the heat of his body, you just smile. "I do. You're cute when you're desperate, Li."

His jaw ticks, and before you know it, your fingers are digging into his tunic as you take his tongue in your mouth, licking and sucking in the way he knows drives you wild. "And I," he groans, pulling back for air just for a moment, "think you're cute when you're bent over a desk. If you don't stop me now, we're leaving for the night, pretty girl."

Brennan Sorrengail

RIP to you. Buddy boy is experienced in this department. You can try all you like to tease him, but it's never going to work. All it takes is a look from him, and you're settling back into your seat with a look of embarrassment on your face. And, yes, he will be asking you about it later, in tragic detail, leaving you flushed and hiding your face in your hands.

"If you're that desperate," he murmurs, dragging his lips against your shoulder, "you could've just asked nicely. Didn't have to go and try being smart with me in front of all those people, angel."

"I said I was sorry," you whine, avoiding his eyes in the bathroom mirror and shivering when he places that first open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "I wasn't being serious, Bren, I promise. You know I'm not like that."

He hums against your skin thoughtfully, tightening his grip on you from behind. "You're not," he agrees, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Usually. You're just so needy, huh? Can't even wait an hour or two to ask me to fuck you, even though you know I'd treat you right?"

"You always do." Your voice goes pitchy. Maybe if you just agree and play along, you'll placate him and he'll forget about your little attempt at riling him up long enough to give you what you need. "I'd never say you don't, my love."

He doesn't respond for a second, and you almost think you've offended him before he asks, "...You really want me right now?"

You let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping a little. Finally. "Yes. Please, Bren."

That relief is quickly replaced with dread when one hand comes up, cradling your jaw and tilting your head up so you can meet his gaze in the mirror. His lips find your ear, his teeth catching on the lobe for a moment before he whispers, "Start begging, then. Nice and loud for me."

Garrick Tavis

As Xaden himself noted, Garrick is hardly a patient man. Pretty similar to Bodhi - it doesn't take much to get him going. It's just harder to get him to give in. The easiest way to do so, though, is to pin him while you're sparring, because everyone knows he's hardest when you best someone, including himself, in combat.

He lets out a little grunt as you drop over him, bracketing your thighs around his hips and pinning him with an arm to his neck. Garrick laughs, although it's a bit strained from the lack of air. "Fair enough," he sighs, settling back and enjoying the view. "Great combo, with the elbow jab. Gotta work on that follow-through, though."

You snort, leaning over so your nose brushes against his. "I beat you, yet you're still critiquing my form." You pause to peck his jaw softly. "How rude."

He takes the chance and slides his hands up your thighs, appreciating the muscle you've obviously worked hard to gain for the past few months. "I'm just helping," he reasons. "It's not like I'm saying-"

He cuts himself off with a choked noise that sounds suspiciously like a moan when you roll your hips into his, just once. His eyes flare for a moment before he clears his throat.

"Lovely," he tries. "What are you doing?"

You grin tauntingly and repeat the motion, only stopping when his fingers grip you so hard that you physically have to stop. "Critiquing your form. I think you'd look better, personally, in my bed rather than the mat."

It's daring, it's reckless, and it's plain stupid, but you've already come this far. You don't even argue when he rolls you under him and presses his face into your chest, a little too close to your tits. "You're playing a dirty game," he warns lowly, nipping at the skin through your clothes. "You sure you want to do this? No way of stopping when I get you naked."

When you nod, he just laughs. "Fine, you pretty little tease. If you want it to be that way, then let it be that way. Don't start regretting it too soon."

#...don't crucify me pls #fourth wing #the empyrean #iron flame #onyx storm #fourth wing imagines #rosemary.answers #sawyer henrick #liam mairi #dain aetos #Bodhi durran #Ridoc gamlyn #Aaric graycastle #cam tauri #brennan sorrengail #garrick tavis #fourth wing smut #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine

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showsandstuff · 3 days ago

Text

I have even more to say about episode six SO HERE WE GO! This time I'll yap and theorize about Jax.

I'm gonna be real here, I wasn't sure how to feel about Jax or the team Bad guys team up in the trailer. Nevermind to all of that, they were great! While there were some sad moments, everyone had fun (except for poor Ragatha who had a hard time all throughout...) Like even Zooble and Gangle enjoyed themselves! It was a good time!

So for most of the time Jax tormenting the others wasn't bad. It was part of the game and everyone did it to everyone!

After Zooble took one of his lives, we saw Jax just lying there and then flinching at the sight of Ribbits and Kaufmos doors. You can tell it affected him. It reminds me of the brief scene in episode where he looked pained at the mention of Kaufmos funeral, but this time it's not a blink and you'll miss it moment.

Also, when Pomni asked him what he'd do if she abstracted tomorrow, and was genuinely hurt by his response... Jax felt bad and he stepped back! He said it was just a joke, when clearly he intentionally said it to hurt her, but he then realized he didn't actually want to hurt her. He almost broke down once he realized he was starting to genuinely care for her, so he asked her to stop trying to think deeply of him.

Now on another note... Ragatha said she felt like she failed him. That she tried to hard to get on his good side and pushed him away by doing that. Did he push Ragatha away just like he did with Pomni...? Is that something he did with everyone, presumably since Ribbit abstracted (cause I believe that's what started his coping mechanism)

And like, was he close with Kaufmo or did he care about him about as much as he does for the rest of the circus. Because he was sad about his abstraction and I don't think Jax liked him particularly more than anyone else.

He'd definitely be sad if Pomni abstracted, their fight proved that to me. And I think the same goes for Kinger, Zooble and Gangle! As for Ragatha, I'm not quite as sure but if I had to guess Id say yes. I think Jaxs problem is that he doesn't actually hate them. That he forces himself to be an asshole when in truth he cares.

Pomni can tell, but the others don't. Except for maybe Kinger, he's a bit hard to read. Ragatha might've thought that at some point but it seems Jax managed to convince her of his hatred.

What hurt to see was how scared Gangle was of him... Understandably so, but I was glad Zooble was there with her.

I genuinely hope this show ends with him being more honest to himself and others. Maybe it's too late to make up with Gangle and Zooble, he was way too awful to Gangle and Zooble doesn't seem like the type to forgive easily either, but Pomni definitely would be there. And I feel like Ragatha would too, since shes so torn up about Jax hating her, though maybe her healing journey is to care less about pleasing everyone and peoples opinion on her! Eh, who knows!

I think this episode made me care quite a bit about Jax. I admit he was my least favorite earlier, not because he was mean, but because i just didn't like him as much as the rest, but... Now he shares the third place with everyone other than Kinger and Ragatha! I genuinely like them all! How fun!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc ragatha #tadc ep 5 #tadc jax #tadc ep 6 spoilers #tadc episode 6

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btsgirlypop · 3 days ago

Text

THE NEW MANAGER - PART 3

Pairing - MYG x Reader, Rockstar!Yoongi x Manager!Reader, HardDom!Yoongi x Virgin!Reader

Genre - Angst

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR'S NOTE - This is actually my first time writing angst. The original plan was to end it in part 2, but after so many requests, I’ve decided to make an alternate happy ending for those who want it. So please don’t forget to like and comment and if you notice any mistakes or have constructive criticism, don’t hesitate to share - I love your suggestions guys. I hope you guys aren't disappointed with this one.

Edit - guys I'm not sure if tumblr's glitching or not but some parts are repeated and i've been trying to delete them. although i'm not sure if you guys can see it so kindly ignore the repeated parts (if there are) and enjoy the story.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SIX MONTHS LATER

You never really left his apartment.

It was strange - quitting the agency didn’t cause any drama at all. Nobody brought it up except the other boys. Maybe Yoongi had said something, told people not to ask or spread quiet warnings to leave it alone. Maybe no one cared; you were a newbie, after all - no friends there, just bosses, coworkers, a few juniors who wouldn’t remember your name in a year. The only person you could even call an acquaintance outside the boys was Somi, a makeup artist you’d had lunch with twice.

Your days blurred together. Yoongi could be gentle - when you weren’t in bed. The morning after the first night you slept with him, he kissed your face softly, his hands never wandering below your breasts. He served your favorite breakfast in bed, telling you that you didn’t need to work, didn’t need to go home, that he would take care of you. That only he loved you.

You knew something about it was wrong. But part of you also wondered—wasn’t it true?

You had been working since thirteen - working odd jobs to put food on the table for your abusive, drunken parents and their good-for-nothing son. Love had never been safe for you. The very people meant to love you without question taught affection through bruises - on the worst days lashes, on the merciful ones just a slap.

It wasn’t like school offered any kind of escape. The kids there never missed a chance to remind you how different you were. They’d throw insults, laugh in your face, push you around—and the teachers? They saw it. They just chose to look the other way, like ignoring it made it disappear. Home hurt. School hurt. No matter where you went, it felt like the world only knew how to break you.

At fifteen, you thought you’d finally found someone who would stay. Someone who might actually choose you when nobody else ever did. For a moment, it felt like all those empty nights and ugly days had been worth it. But then the truth came out.

The boy you thought you loved more than your life, revealed you’d been nothing more than a dare. In front of everyone, he’d said girls like you—poor, naive, plain—never ended up with guys like him. That humiliation etched itself into your skin, permanent and raw. And when, years later, you reluctantly gave someone else a chance, he proved those words again by cheating on you with someone richer, prettier.

People say words fade, that you’re weak if you let them linger. But you know the truth - some words don’t just linger; they rot inside you, poisoning everything. Those words didn’t just hurt—they killed the last fragile piece of hope you’d been holding on to.

You had clawed your way out of your home—working, studying, surviving—until you finally escaped across the world. But you couldn’t escape yourself.

At least here, with Yoongi, there was someone who claimed to love you. Someone who never strayed, who never came home smelling of someone else—only his cologne, his warm, musky scent. He was either in the studio or here, with you.

It was easy to slip into a routine—making breakfast, doing his laundry waiting for the sound of his key in the lock. But you never went out. He wouldn’t let you. And honestly, you didn’t even mind. After years of abuse, the girl with the bright smile was long gone, molding you into someone who kept their distance, who flinched from closeness, someone who pulled away from people before they could even get near.

Although sometimes Yoongi got… intense. Possessive. Angry enough that you thought he might hit you. But he never did. Instead, he would always pull back, voice low, apologies spilling out until you forgave him.

And you always forgave him. Because at least here, someone wanted you enough to keep you. To love you, no matter how twisted that love was.” And you… you couldn’t deny the cruel truth - you loved him too.

***

This morning was just like any other. You were in the kitchen, making breakfast when he wakes up. He pads over with that lazy smirk, kissing you roughly as he slides his hands under your shirt like you're just another part of the morning routine.

And before you know it, you're half-draped over the counter, his voice low in your ear, whispering “Don’t forget—you’re mine. Always.” By the time he was done, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and left, leaving you still half-ruined on the kitchen floor. That’s the thing with Yoongi: he can make you feel like the center of his world in one breath, and completely disposable in the next.

You get up, legs unsteady, and that’s when it hit - the sour lurch in your throat, the nausea rolling up from your stomach. You barely make it to the bathroom, one hand on the wall as you heave.

It wasn’t the first time. You’ve been feeling off for days, brushing it away, wishing it was anything else. But deep down… you knew. You knew exactly what it could be.

A baby.

The thought scares you. This thing you have with Yoongi—it’s temporary. You know he'll leave, just like others. And you? You’re already broken in ways you don’t even want to name. A baby is the last thing you should want. And yet, part of you clings to it.

Maybe Yoongi doesn’t love you. Maybe no one really has. But this baby… your baby. It's yours. Completely yours. The only thing in your life that could be.

And then the guilt hits. Because isn’t that selfish? Bringing an innocent child into this mess just so you’d have someone who wouldn’t leave? But no matter how you twist it in your head, you can’t shake the feeling that this baby might be the only thing that matters.

You decide you’re done being afraid. For the first time, you were ready to fight- with yourself, with Yoongi and even with the world - if that’s what it takes. All for your little baby.

Your plan is perfect. Yoongi trusted you completely now - you’ve never gone against him. So slipping out is easy. All you have to do is be back before seven, before practice ends and the door unlocks.

Seven hours to figure out if your life is about to change forever.

***

The hospital smells like bleach and that weird metallic tang that's making my morning sickness worse. The waiting area chairs are hard and cold, the kind that make your legs go numb if you sit too long. you've been here almost an hour, clutching the little test receipt in my hand like it might change if I hold it tight enough.

The money for this came from the scraps you’d managed to save before you quit your job. Now it’s almost gone, and if this is what you think it is, you don't know what'll you'll do.

Your stomach is in knots. What happens if you're right? Will you be able to leave Yoongi? Should you even tell him? What will he do if he finds out? He’s not exactly a gentle, loving guy - not with you, and definitely not the kind of gentle a child needs.

Your number is almost up. Any second now, the nurse will call your name, and then this won’t be just a thought in your head - it’ll be real. you’ll be a mother.

Just as you're about to stand, you hear a familiar voice - “Y/n?”

You freeze before turning slowly.

Jungkook.

Your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy. If he tells Yoongi… you don’t even want to imagine it.

“Hi… Jungkook,” you manage to choke out, barely.

Running isn’t an option. He’s already seen you. You realize your only chance is to make him promise not to tell Yoongi. Beg him if you have to.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his brows pulling together. “Where have you been? You know… I missed you.”

You know it’s not the romantic kind of ‘missed you.’ Jungkook’s always been more like a brother to you. You were the only one younger than him in the crew, so he treated you like his annoying little sister—teasing you, picking fights, then showing up with ice cream when you sulked.

You don’t know how to answer him. He’s the only one who cared about you before Yoongi. And looking at the worry on his face now - real, genuine worry - you break.

The words just keep falling out as you tell him everything. How you’ve been living. What Yoongi’s done. How you might be pregnant. All of it. Except the first night.

Jungkook’s expression shifts, the worry on his face hardening into sharp, controlled anger.

“Y/N?” The nurse’s voice cuts in, calling your name.

“Let’s go, Y/Nie,” Jungkook says, taking your hand without waiting for you to argue.

You let him lead yourself into the doctor’s cabin. Sitting down, you bite your lip so hard it stings, trying to hold still. Jungkook's hand is still wrapped around you, warm and steady.

The doctor glances at the chart. “Congratulations, Ms. Y/n. You’re pregnant.”

The words hit you like they’re coming from far away, muffled. Your ears buzz, mind goes blank as you barely catch what she says next until Jungkook’s hand is on your shoulder, shaking you gently.

“Congratulations, Y/N! I’m gonna be an uncle—YES!” he says, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

The doctor chuckles at his excitement. And you… you actually smile. A real smile.

This is your baby.

You're going to be a mother.

And in that second, nothing else matters—not Yoongi, not your family, not everything you’ve been through. You’ve survived alone before. You can do it again. Only this time, you won’t be alone.

You’ll have your baby. Always.

***

You step out of the clinic with Jungkook, the prescription and a little envelope of vitamins clutched tightly in your hand. The sun is too bright, too warm for the storm still raging in your chest.

Jungkook walks beside you, unusually quiet. “Y/N,” he finally says, his voice low but steady, “you can’t go back to Yoongi. Not like this.”

Your heart lurched. “You know I can’t just leave—”

“You have to,” Jungkook cut you off, his jaw tightening. “He’s not safe for you, atleast now. If he finds out before you’re ready…Think carefully. Do you want to risk it?” He trails off, but the warning in his eyes was enough.

You stop in the middle of the street.

The words lodge in your chest. Risk it.

You think about Yoongi. The way he has you tangled up in ways you don’t even know how to explain—mentally, emotionally… like a rope you can’t untie. You hate that you still depend on him — for safety, for familiarity, for something you can’t even name. But your baby… your little one doesn’t deserve to suffer because you're too weak, too broken.

You think maybe this is the last chance you’ll get. Maybe there won’t be another.

And right now, Jungkook’s offer feels like a door that’s about to slam shut.

JUNGKOOK'S POV

When I first met Y/N, she looked like a scared stray kitten—big eyes, small voice, always glancing over her shoulder. She was only beginning to open up, at least with me - and then she disappeared. I tried contacting her a few times after that, but it always ended the same: a dead, repetitive dial tone. Out of reach.

Something didn’t feel right.

And Yoongi-hyung? Way too calm. If it were me, I’d be tearing the world apart looking for her. I know he likes her—hell, no, loves her. But nobody else knows that, so I can’t just go around asking the others, “Hey, why isn’t hyung panicking about Y/N disappearing?”

It's been six months but I couldn't find her, even after I used every fucking way to search for her. But I didn’t know I'd find her here- in a hospital on a random tuesday. I’d come to the hospital to visit my cousin who managed to break his wrist doing god knows what. But then I saw her - Y/N. Sitting there like she’s half here, half somewhere far away.

What she told me about Yoongi… it made my skin crawl.

I’ve always known about hyung’s dark past.

An alcoholic father who alternated between neglect and cruelty. A mother who vanished without a word. Growing up like that, he learned to twist love into control, possession. To him, affection was something you kept caged so it wouldn’t escape.

The kind of childhood that turns you into someone who clings so hard you choke the other person.

But still… I never thought he’d go that far with Y/N. Not her. Not to the girl he’d been watching since the day they met.

I only found out how deep it went when I caught him once — eyes locked on her across the room as she laughed with someone else. I saw the flicker of anger cross his face, sharp as glass. Later, he snapped at her over something stupid, and from then on his irritation toward her only grew.

I teased him about it once, just the two of us, and he snapped, "She's mine,” like it wasn’t even up for debate. That was the first time he admitted anything about his feelings.

Back then, I was happy for him, feeling this strange hope thinking maybe she was the one person who could pull him back from the edge, make him human again.

But what he did to her…

No one heals by breaking someone else. And now I’m wondering if hyung never really wanted to heal at all.

THIRD POV

Jungkook’s place is… huge. Warm lighting spills across polished wood floors, the air smelling faintly of expensive cologne and fresh laundry. Soft rugs under your small feet with floor-to-ceiling windows letting the city glow seep in.

Yoongi’s place, in comparison, was smaller. Not shabby—he kept it neat, cold, minimal. Every object placed like it was part of some carefully staged set. But it always felt hollow.

Here, though… there’s space to breathe. And maybe for the first time in months, you feel like you can.

Still, you hate the idea of being a burden. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” you tell yourself, “but I need to find my own place. A job. Something.” You decide you can’t go back to Yoongi’s agency—not after everything. Not because you're scared to see him, but because you know yourself. You’d give in to him too easily. He knows exactly what to say, when to say it, how to slip under your skin until your resolve just… crumbles.

In your heart, you know, you're not strong enough to win against him. So hiding feels safer, even if it makes you a coward.

And it’s not like Yoongi loved you. You're sure he’ll move on. Just like everyone did. But you're not so sure you will. Ever.

From the guest bedroom, you hear Jungkook pacing. He’s muttering under his breath about pillows, décor, clothes—like he’s trying to redesign the whole space for you overnight.

You chuckle and lean on the doorframe. “Jungkook, I’m okay. I don’t need all this.”

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “You need these, Y/N. And after all, your oppa is here to take care of you.”

A rare hearty laugh escapes your lips, hearing him call himself 'oppa'. You knew how much he hated that word but if it meant being that for you, he would. Your heart couldn’t help but soften for him more. "Oppa? You hate that word.”

He smirks. “Yeah, well… I’m willing to suffer for you.”

“Okay, oppa.” You mock him.

He hands you a pair of his oversized T-shirts and sweatpants for pajamas. Then he disappears into the kitchen, ignoring your when you offer to cook.

“No way,” he calls out. “My niece needs to eat her uncle’s cooking first. That way she’ll like me more.”

His words make you laugh—really laugh, the kind that bubbles up without warning. But halfway through, it catches in your throat, twisting into quiet sobs.

Jungkook turns, sees you, and without a word, crosses the room to pull you into his arms. His hand cups the back of your head. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And for a second, you let yourself believe him.

***

YOONGI'S POV

Something’s wrong with Y/n. I saw it in her eyes this morning—the tiredness she tried to hide. It’s been like that for days, but I ignored it. My gut’s telling me something’s off.

I've always been cold with her, but it’s not just her. Everyone knows I'm like this. My friends… they know where it comes from. Or at least, they think they do.

I don't talk about it. Not how I grew up fighting for scraps—food, clothes, affection. Not how I learned early that if you want something, you take it. You don’t wait for it to be given. That’s how I got her too. I snatched her.

I understand it was wrong, how I forced her to sleep with me. But I don’t regret it. She's mine. She laughed with that idiot in front of me once, and I made sure she understood—nobody else touches her, nobody else gets her.

I told her I’m the only one who loves her, the only one who can save her. And maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I don’t love her at all—because what the hell do I know about love? When no one ever taught me what love was supposed to be? All I’ve ever known is control, obsession, desperation. If that’s love, then maybe I do love her.

But even if I can’t love her, I can’t let her go. She’s too naïve for this world. If I don’t protect her, someone worse than me will get to her.

It’s ironic—saying I’m protecting her from men who’d use her, when I’m doing the same thing.

Still… Y/N is the only light in my life. Just one smile from her, and the noise in my head fades. The shadows of my past blur—my mother leaving, the years of neglect, the cold nights. She makes the world warm.

It’s 7 p.m. I’m carrying a box of pastries from her favorite bakery. I can already see her smile when I hand them over. She’s such a kid sometimes. I regretted treating her like that this morning - liike she was something that I just used. But I'll make it upto her. I planned a date for the first time in my life. Tonight we won’t have sex. Maybe we’ll watch a movie, have dinner, and I’ll hold her while she sleeps. I’ve been doing that since the first night but she doesn’t know. Thank God she sleeps deeply.

I unlock the door, smiling, bending down to take off my shoes.

Then I freeze.

The apartment is dark.

That’s… never happened before.

“Y/N?” My voice echoes. No reply.

I search the bedroom, the bathroom, calling her name louder each time. My chest tightens—what if someone took her? What if something happened?

The pastry box slips from my hand, smearing cream across the tiles.

Or worse… did she leave me?

Did she play me from the start, only to walk away like everyone else?

My mother’s face flashes in my head. The betrayal. The abandonment.

No. I won’t let it happen again.

I’ll find her. I’ll drag her back if I have to.

Y/N is mine. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.

***

JUNGKOOK'S POV

It's been ten days since Y/N started living with me.

At first, she kept her distance, almost as if she was afraid to take up space. She never asked me for favors unless she had no other choice. I could tell something—someone—had scarred her deeply. But lately… I’d been seeing it. The tiny cracks in her armor. The small smiles she gave me when I teased her. The faint light in her eyes when she forgot to be cautious.

Still, I knew what happened at night. Behind the closed door of her room, she would curl up under the blanket, clutching it so tightly it seemed like it was the only thing keeping her together, and whisper his name—“Yoongi…”—over and over.

I told myself Yoongi-hyung wasn’t good for her. That the side of him I’d seen, the dark, distant one, would win in the end. That he would just let her slip away and return to being the cold man who didn’t care about anyone.

But I was wrong. Dead wrong.

The first time I realized it was when Yoongi-hyung missed practice. It was the day after i took Y/n to my apartment. We all thought it was nothing—maybe he was sick, maybe he needed rest. Namjoon-hyung said he had a fever and would be back soon.

Only, he wasn’t.

Day two—still absent. Day three—no word. By the fifth day, he’d stopped answering our calls. Even the CEO couldn’t get through to him.

Nobody knew where he was.

On the tenth day, Namjoon-hyung decided to go to Yoongi’s place—a rare thing in itself. None of us had ever really been inside. Hyung valued his privacy like it was life or death. I insisted on going with him.

When the door finally creaked open, the smell of alcohol hit me first. My chest tightened.

The place looked like a storm had torn through it—furniture overturned, glass shattered, papers scattered everywhere. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor.

And in the middle of it all… Yoongi-hyung.

He was slumped against the couch, clutching a half-empty bottle like it was the last thing keeping him alive. His eyes—bloodshot, swollen from crying—lifted to us for only a second before he looked away, whispering Y/N’s name.

“Yoongi, what the hell happened?” Namjoon’s voice broke the silence.

But instead of answering, Yoongi reached for him. The man who was usually untouchable, always in control, clung to Namjoon like a drowning man. He half-lay on the floor, half in Namjoon’s arms, sobbing—raw, ugly, desperate.

It hit me then: Yoongi never drank. He once told me his father was an alcoholic and that he’d sworn never to touch the stuff. I’d never known exactly what happened, but whatever it was, it was bad enough that he’d stayed sober all these years. Until now.

Namjoon looked at me over Yoongi’s shaking shoulders. “Go,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay here.”

I hesitated. Every instinct told me to help. But Y/N was waiting for me. And she needed me just as much—maybe more.

When I got home, Y/N opened the door, a spatula in her hand, the faint smell of something cooking drifting out. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Those eyes were rimmed red, the same way his had been.

“You’re home,” she said softly.

“Yeah.” I forced a grin, stepping inside. “Something smells good.”

She laughed a little, but it was hollow.

I knew what had happened between her and Yoongi hyung was toxic. I knew they had hurt each other. But watching them from the outside, I also knew this—sometimes, two broken people fit together in a way that made sense, even if it destroyed them in the process.

I didn’t tell her what I’d seen. Didn’t tell her that Yoongi was breaking without her. Instead, I put on a smile, joked with her, tried to make her laugh.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the thought— Hyung needed to get his shit together. Soon. Or he’d lose her completely. And when that happened… it would break her, too.

I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to either of them.

The next day, I decided I have to confront him. He has to know—Y/N and her baby need him, even if she’d never say it to me.

I was about to head to his apartment when Namjoon called, telling me to come to the studio immediately.

When I walked in, I stopped dead. Yoongi hyung is here. Same haggard look as yesterday, but sober. I don't care what Namjoon had said to him yesterday - I'm not letting this go.

I stride straight over, ignoring everyone’s stares, grab him by the arm, and drag him into another room.

The moment the door shut, I didn’t even let him speak. I punched him hard in the shoulder, shoving him back. “You bastard! What did you do to Y/N?”

The second her name left my mouth, his head snaps up. He grabs my collar, desperation in his eyes. “You know where she is. Tell me, Jungkook. Tell me now.”

I shove his hands off me. “I won’t. You don’t deserve her. She’s not some prize you get to own, hyung. She’s a person. A beautiful soul. And you broke her.”

His eyes glisten, and his grip loosen. His voice's small. “I know I don’t deserve her. I know what I did was wrong. But I can’t… I can’t love without her, Jungkook. I need her.”

“No,” I snap. “You just want to control her. That’s not love.”

Tears slide down his face. “I love her. God, I love her. And maybe you’re right—I should stay away. But I can’t. I’ll die without her.”

For the first time, I realize he wasn’t just saying it. He meant it. I’d never seen Yoongi like this.

I step closer. “She’s pregnant.”

It was like the words broke something in him. He staggers back, shaking his head, crying harder. “I left her like that? She didn’t even feel safe enough to tell me?” His voice cracks, almost a whisper. “I don’t even know about the baby… but I can’t let her go. I don’t know if I'm ready to be a father, but I just… I need Y/N back.”

And for the first time, I believed him.

***

THIRD POV

It was the morning after Jungkook fought Yoongi. Jungkook didn't tell you anything about it. Today is your prenatal appointment, the one you’ve been waiting for—and dreading.

You wake up early, nerves already tangled in your stomach. Jungkook had promised to take you. He swore he wouldn’t let you go through this alone. But hours slip by and he doesn’t show up. It wasn't like Jungkook, since the day you started living with him, he always told you about his schedule. You couldn't even call him as you left your phone at Yoongi's place.

It was finally time to go or you'll miss your appointment. With a long, shaky breath, you scribble a note on the counter. “Went to the hospital. Don’t worry.” Before walking out on your own.

By the time you step into the hospital, you feel small. Invisible. The hospital feels colder than usual, buzzing with the quiet hum of nurses’ shoes against linoleum floors and the occasional echo of laughter from expectant couples.

You sit in the waiting room, alone, watching husbands rub their wives’ swollen bellies with pride and tenderness. Your throat burns, chest aching as you tell yourself not to cry, not here, not again—stress is poison for the baby. Still, your eyes sting and blur.

What you don’t know is that Yoongi is here too. Standing in the shadows of the hallway, half-hidden by a corner. Watching you. He sees the way your gaze lingers on the couples, how you unconsciously press a hand over your still flat stomach like you're trying to protect what’s yours, even when you feel so terribly sad.

Jungkook’s voice is still ringing in his ears from earlier, when he dropped him off at the hospital entrance. “Don’t screw this up, hyung. If you’re not going to do right by her, let her go. But don’t chase her unless you’re ready to be the man she deserves.”

Yoongi had every intention of barging in, of pulling you into his arms like he used to, of claiming you the way his obsession demanded. But when he sees you, everything stops.

You look broken. Fragile in a way you never let yourself be around him. And the weight of it hits him all at once—this is his fault. All of it.

For nearly thirty years, he’s let ghosts from his past dictate his every move, his every twisted choice. And here it’s cost him the only thing that’s ever mattered—you. His baby. He’s already lost too much in life. He won’t lose this too. Not again. Not ever.

You stand when the nurse calls your name, your body stiff and hesitant. You stand on shaky legs, ready to go in alone. And then—warm fingers wrapping around yours.

You flinch and whip your head around, eyes widening.

And there he is.

Yoongi.

Looking maddeningly calm, as though the storm between you never happened. His sharp black coat, his composed expression, the faint curl of his lips that almost passes for a smile—it all makes your heart lurch with a confusion that borders on anger.

“Let’s go, baby,” he says with a small smile.

The word—baby—knocks the air out of you. You’re stunned into silence, your mind screaming don’t forget, don’t forget why you left even as your heart stumbles at the sound of it. And for a second, I forget why you left him.

You try to pull your hand back, your lips parting. “Yoongi, I—”

He cuts you off with a look, eyes dark but not sharp, just… pleading. “Please. Just this time. Let me be here.”

Your stomach twists, torn between nervousness and the raw relief that Yoongi was standing beside you.

Inside the doctor’s office, the doctor notices your red eyes but doesn’t comment. “So, how are we feeling today?” she asks gently, flipping open your chart.

“I’m… okay,” you manage, though your voice wobbles.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first. He just sits in the chair beside you, his knee bouncing like he’s fighting himself. But when the doctor asks if the father wants to listen to the heartbeat too, he blurts out before you can say something, “Yes. Please.”

You shoot him a look, startled, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is locked on the machine as though it holds the answer to everything he’s ever been afraid of.

The room goes quiet except for the doctor’s murmurs as she readies the Doppler. You lie back, tugging up your shirt, the gel cold against your skin. And then—

There it is.

A rapid, steady thrum filling the air. The sound of life.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, his lips part slightly, and for once, words fail him. His hands curl into fist against his knees, as though he’s grounding himself.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor says, her smile warm. “Strong and healthy.”

Your eyes sting. You hadn’t wanted to cry again, but this time it’s different. Relief floods you, raw and consuming. The tears spill over.

And then you glance at Yoongi.

He’s not composed anymore. His jaw works, his throat tight. His eyes glisten, though he refuses to blink. His hand trembles before he finally reaches for yours again. You don’t pull away this time.

“That’s… ours,” he whispers, almost in disbelief. His thumb brushes your knuckles like he’s trying to memorize the moment.

You nod, unable to stop your own tears. Your chest aches with something fragile and terrifying—hope. Again for yourself.

When the doctor steps out to give you privacy, the silence is thick. He helps you sit up gently, careful not to let go of your hand. His touch is soft, reverent, as though he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he’s too rough.

Finally, he speaks, his voice breaking. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d deserve this. You. The baby. Any of it. But hearing that…” He shakes his head, finally looking at you with a rawness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not obsession. Not anymore. I love you. I love you both. And I’m terrified of losing you again.”

The confession lands heavy in the air, heavier than all his previous words. You search his face, torn apart inside.

“Yoongi…” Your voice cracks, doubt still creeping in. “It’s not that easy. Are you sure you want us?"

His grip tightens, desperate but gentle. “I am. More than anything else. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. Even if you can’t trust me yet, let me try. Just… don’t shut me out of this. Please.”

You close your eyes, tears sliding freely. Part of you wants to push him away, close your wounded heart again. Another part—the part that softened when you heard your baby’s heartbeat, when you saw the way his eyes shattered—whispers that maybe, maybe there’s still something worth salvaging.

His lips press against yours - tentative at first, then desperate, as though he’s afraid this might be the last time. You let him. Because deep down, you know you’ll forgive him. Trust won’t come easily, maybe not even soon. But if he can finally break free of his past for you… then maybe you can try, too.

For him. For us. For our baby.

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cardsweetheart · 1 day ago

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Yumi's NRC Dateability Guide - First Years

By popular demand (Idia asked her once as a joke and then Cater demanded her real answers), the first set of her reviews of the boys depending on if she would play their route.

Ace - 10/10 "No comment. But if I had to. He was the first one I met, which gives major main Love Interest energy. He's real cute, even if he is a jerk. Funny, sweet when he wants to be. Obviously I just, didn't pick the right choices. If I could replay, I'd do it way different and try to get his good ending. He seems like he'd be the common option. Like the poster boy next door to get the softer girls hooked."

Deuce - 10/10 "That is a GOOD BOY. He has the bad boy history but still loves his mom. He also rides a motorcycle. He's not the smartest but he's an athlete so that makes sense. Probably super underrated and skimmed past for like, dorm leaders or vices. Oooo like a dlc or post game unlockable route.'

Sebek - 6/10 "Tall. Loyal obviously. Smart too! Strong right? Just...a lot. The green hair is giving something. His dorm uniform definitely stays on during sex. Feel like he would be a hard route to master, balancing everything he's got going on and respecting everyone perfectly."

Epel - 4/10 "Sometimes I look at him and I'm like, that would interesting to see play out, but most of the time I'd pass. I'm sure the pretty boy thing is someone's type. Everyone is someone's type. Maybe if Vil stopped trying to make him like high tea and vocal train. Let Epel say fuck and I'll reconsider."

Ortho - 1/10 "Don't get me wrong. The robot thing is not a deal breaker. But look at him. That's a baby. He's more like the animal companion than an LI. A little brother in every sense of the word. I love him."

Jack - 8/10 "He would be someone a lot of players don't finish because he isn't what they expect. Man does not fit his archetype at all. He's definitely hot, even if he's a bit big for my tastes. He's a lot more serious than you'd expect and very hero-ish, but not uptight or annoying. He's soft but not a pushover? He's got his morals down. He's really well rounded but kind of fades into the background? You have to know to know with him, you know?"

#yumi #twst yuu #yumiace #twsited wonderland #twst

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soviet-supersoldier · 11 hours ago

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This really should have been expanded on. Because yeah, Domino and Omega Red had been on a team with Sabretooth not too long ago. They should have had their questions and concerns. Omega Red himself said this in X-Lives of Wolverine:

So it's not like he was completely unaware of what the Quiet Council did to Sabretooth, sending him into the Pit. There should have been understanding to some degree of why Sabretooth was doing what he did because Arkady himself had behaved similarly.

However, there are some caveats too that make this more complicated and why I still think this action to take the heroes' side over Victor DOES make sense to Arkady's character instead of being an ooc moment. The relationship between Omega Red and Sabretooth, after all, is really messy and at times toxic, and goes back way before the events of Weapon X. Plus there is Arkady's own values to consider. Deep dive!

Going back to the late 90s and early 2000s, Arkady hated Sabretooth for the role he played in his life's misfortunes, particularly the Team X stuff and the part Victor played in that. They did not get along and had fought on a few occasions, namely X-Factor #138 and the throwback series of X-men Legends #8-9, where Sabretooth teamed up with Logan AND Lady Deathstrike to fight Omega Red. Sabretooth himself, when he wasn't under the influence of the AXIS event, didn't really like Arkady either, rather enjoying his games to make him more miserable, like in this scene from Wolverine #175 shows:

This is the last on-page interaction between Arkady and Victor before they meet up again in Weapon X. And none of this drama is ever touched upon there. Why? Probably because it didn't suit the writer’s story, but at the same time, given that Weapon X had a lot of focus put on Victor righting his wrongs, him actually addressing how he had wronged Arkady in the past and then making amends for it would have made that story (which was still good) even better.

As it stands though, Victor never took the blame really for how he personally hurt Arkady in the past or apologized for it in any way. It was more of him offering Omega Red a chance in spite of what he had done to harm him (their entire history being ignored/glossed over), not because of it. On some level, I'm sure Arkady was aware of this and was aware of how different Victor behaved toward him in Weapon X versus every other time they had interacted. And the cause of that difference was the morality inversion. He was dealing with a Victor Creed who was almost a polar opposite of the one he knew and hated.

But they got along in Weapon X without an issue, because that inverted Victor offered Arkady something better. He actually did see Arkady's situation for once and instead of actively making it worse like he used to, did make it better. And Arkady himself has a history of just "grin and bear it" when it comes to accepting how others mistreat him and trying to move on and get along, like he did in the Krakoa era as well (although there were attempts to make amends there for how he was treated).

When Weapon X ended, we were left with questions on just how everyone moved on. Who knows how long Domino and Omega Red searched for Arkady after Victor gave up his changed morality to save his son? But at some point they did, leading up to the Krakoa era. And while Arkady (and Domino) were likely aware of what happened to Victor with the Pit (again, pointing to X-lives of Wolverine) they would also have (probably) known or learned about the personality shift back to the person Victor was before the AXIS morality shift.

Even still, perhaps there were doubts. Perhaps there was still a part of Arkady that couldn't believe that AXIS Victor was gone and that he was likely dealing with the Old Victor again. Maybe he thought that if they ever crossed paths again, he could do the same thing AXIS Victor did for him and offer him a chance. But there is a huge difference between getting offered a chance to change and changing because you had actually wanted the opportunity, and getting offered the chance and squandering it because you like who you are and where you are. Omega Red is an example of the former, and Old Victor is an example of the latter.

Arkady himself probably had this realization drilled into him during that moment in X-Lives when he fought Victor in Logan’s body. When he was trying to fight and convince the man that he remembered seeing in Weapon X to join him, only to not have any effect on swaying him. Because he was dealing with the old Victor. The Victor who didn't care about him unless it was to screw him over. The Victor who was obsessed with Wolverine and nothing else. While the fight would have occurred in the past, it would have been a reminder to Arkady of just who he was dealing with in the present again: someone who would rip his heart out of his chest without a second thought because he didn't actually care about him anymore.

And he would have had to accept the Victor who gave him a chance was gone. Back to who he was before. There would have probably been a time of silent mourning for that loss. But if it somehow wasn't cemented in at that point, it would have been after the attack on the Greenhouse. Where Sabretooth almost killed all of his new friends and once again didn't care at all about how any of his actions hurt Arkady. Or hurt his friends. Arkady would have seen the aftermath and how it had affected them all and his bonds of loyalty can be strong:

But what about him sympathizing with Victor? After all, Arkady himself went on a revenge spree when he was personally wronged in X-Lives. Victor was on his own "revenge spree" as well here. Isn't it justified? No. Arkady was punished for that action. Arkady was killed for what he tried to do. He suffered consequences for his actions. Victor wouldn't be allowed to get a pass either, because, again, he almost killed all of Arkady's new teammates and friends who had accepted him as one of their own. There would have been the realization that just as HE had done wrong and had to be stopped, Victor had to be as well. Victor doesn't get a free pass to hurt and kill people just because of who he knows. He still committed a heinous crime and actions have consequences.

On top of this, as Demons and Death revealed, even a childhood friend isn't guaranteed to be safe if they commit to an action that hurts Arkady or someone else he feels close to. Grigori was a friend of his and they had reconnected at the beginning of that story. But by the end, Grigori betrayed Arkady, almost got him killed and took part in killing his one true friend Anastasia.

What did Arkady do in response? He went after him. He didn't just shrug and walk away. He didn't just forgive and forget because Grigori was an old friend. There was punishment. Retribution. Justice. Just being an old friend once upon a time didn't change that. Some loyalties run deeper. And if you attack first? That's really all the justification Arkady needs to fight back:

Do I think that Arkady didn't have doubts or second thoughts? No, I seriously think he did, which is why I think it would have been great to have a few pages of discussion between him and Domino about these very points I mentioned here. Those two knew a different side to Victor, and it should have been them who pointed it out and also pointed out that there wasn't any other option besides the one they took. This would have been a calculated decision, not one that was taken lightly, and the comic should have done a better job with that aspect.

So, at least to this Omega Red fan, Arkady’s actions DO make sense, why he went with the heroes over Victor. Because looking over their entire history of interactions, their relationship is not so clear-cut to cause undying loyalty in the face of an action like the one Victor took. When Arkady experiences a betrayal, he bites back and bites back hard. And that is the tragic story of what happened between him and Victor.

Two enemies that eventually found a way to get along when the one finally was able to see the other as a person, only for that vision to be lost and the relationship fall back into what had been before.

(Wolverine 2020, issue #50)

rereading this issue again and being pissed OFF that like half of the people in this group have witnessed him being a good person(2 of them literally being his FRIENDS) and ben percy had 0 of them question why he was suddenly acting so out of character. like. not even a 'hey man, u doing alright?'

#omega red #arkady rossovich #sabretooth #victor creed #ramblings and musings on omega red #my thoughts on arkady and victor's relationship #yes it's really messy #yes it's tragic #but Arkady's life is full of tragedy anyway #i would have loved to see this actually expanded upon

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satosray · 4 months ago

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I do not think people actually realize how plagiarism works in fandoms or in gen and i will stand by that. The general consensus is that if a headcanons goes far out of your reach and almost everyone is talking about it adding to it it, it is not your patterned bs. and when i said basic, i meant what i meant, you are thinking about the most ideal man that almost everyone is thinking about, and then you are saying omg how dare you say he is obsessed with you, that is my thing. If i made some original claim let's say, and someone saw that and spitballed it and everything i would not be going around saying thief. that would be dumb. no literature is free from "stealing" let's say. and i am saying "stealing" because that is all how these people will understand what inspiration, allusions, thematic influence is and never bother to know it works.

please credit artists yes, painters, writers, graphic designers alike when you are using their works—what i am saying is that it is simply dumb to sit there and shade people and then send army of people to harass someone because you think they stole something when that is not the case.

#that same thing at the same time you cannot be like oh i own this. like idk and most people do not know who tf said caleb is a panty sniffer #but everyone all nodded their heads whenever anyone said that.#dick riding this dick riding that #but your hypocritical ass needs a hoard of people to stand by you and say yeahhhhhh to all your delusions #i am trying to be as respectful here as i can be #but imagine opening a fan acc of arguably the most famous fictional character and then going around and shading ppl over dumb shit #come out of your bubble and see how things actually work #Like sure you feel how you feel #and others will feel how they feel. but at the end of the day your methods around the whole thing was atrocious and i will stand by that.#lol talking about originality and the originality is I'm looking for a man in finance #Trust fund #6'5"#blue eyes #before you think you are so bored that you have time to shade me on your very original untouchable blog #please go touch grass #it's your blog do wtv tf you wanna do with it but keep me off it #raysays<3 #plagiarism #fandoms #fandom etiquette #fandom spaces #fandom things #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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bittybeanie · 1 year ago

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oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite™ version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.

content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!

also on ao3!

It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. You’re too close, then too far, and Reigen can’t get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he can’t decide how he wants your leg angled, and there’s too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.

Finally, finally, everything is perfect.

Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and you’re not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but he’s here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, there’s no way you’re not going with.

Perfect.

His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.

"As long you don’t- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not… well." He moves a hand back and forth across where he’s hovering over your thigh.

“Keep off the goods. Gotcha."

"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."

You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.

"The goods don't seem to agree."

"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. “Fine, fine, just stop saying goods.”

“Alright.” He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. “I promise! I will never again use ‘the goods’ to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-”

“I get it! I get it.” He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. “Here, actually, can you-? Hm.” He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.

“Didn’t mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’ll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.” You hit the last “t” sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. “God, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? It’s sorta mesmerizing.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just- I wasn’t thinking about it. S’just what f- ha, feels good.” His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.

“Yeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?”

“Oi.” His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Too much?”

“That’s not how I think of you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. “I know, ‘Taka, I know.” You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. “But would it really be so bad to belong to you?”

“I- fuck.” There’s a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then he’s scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.

“Are you sure?” It’s a formality, uttered even as you’re already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but it’s one you can’t even imagine going without.

“Very.” He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.

He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.

“Do I need to get-?” You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. He’s technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasn’t made much effort to keep the secret either.

He shakes his head. “I’m close. Won’t matter.”

He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he can’t get any good contact.

“Oh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it won’t stay down on its own.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.

“That gorgeous curve probably isn’t helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.” You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. “Sorry, sorry, di-”

“No, it’s-” He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think he’s going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. “Here.”

He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isn’t already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.

“Just… gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.” He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.

You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You don’t bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Eh, let it dry.”

“I’m starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.”

“If you haven’t gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-”

He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so there’s no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh, stop it.” He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like he’s trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Oh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.” You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere he’d rather you didn’t.

“Hey, Arataka?”

“I love you, too.”

“That, too.” You chuckle. “But I have a real question this time.”

“Oh.” He turns his head. “Sure.”

“After you… when you took my hands earlier, were you…?” The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You can’t help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. “Sorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.”

You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.

“Do you mean…” He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “Do you mean after the clothes came off?”

You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.

“I was… I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didn’t have to say it, if I could just… imply, then I could get around it, but,” he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, “I panicked.”

You’re both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“...Panicking?��

“No, angel. Implying.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “Maybe you just have to imply for a little longer.”

“I’m not following.”

“What if you left your hand on top of mine? That way it’s like- it’s the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.”

For a long moment, you’re not sure if he’s quiet because he’s thinking or because he’s falling asleep.

He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.

"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."

"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. You’re not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.

You shift back onto your knees.

"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."

When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.

"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."

You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.

"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."

"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. “Yours under mine.”

“Got it.” You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"

"You tell me that every time."

"It's important every time."

He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."

You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"

He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."

"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"

"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"

"Arataka."

"Yeah." He swallows.

"I'm not going to be offended if you’d like to take off your own pants."

He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."

"And your-?"

"Just do it at the same time."

"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"

His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.

You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.

"Ready?"

He nods slightly.

"I’d like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."

He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yeah, yes.” He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. “I trust you."

You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and you’re certain if you put your hand to his cheek you’d worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, he’s hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.

He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. “Are you gonna-?”

“In a minute.” You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m savoring.”

He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.

Once you’re sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigen’s skin as you uncover more of it.

He’s shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.

You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.

He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.

“Here, let’s try this.” You guide him to sit up. Once he’s situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. “Still good?”

He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.

“You’re allowed to change your mind, y’know. I can let you do it.”

“That’s not- mm.” He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. “I thought I would… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and slowly pull away. “Nothing to apologize for.” You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesn’t hold your gaze for long.

“Do you want to keep going? Should I…?”

He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something you’re not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.

“Stay in bed?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. “Or move to the couch and watch something?”

“Couch.” He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.

You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out.

Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. You’ve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasn’t tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.

You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can you’re sure he would be spilling it on you right now.

He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.

He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.

"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."

Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.

"I guess you better help me there."

"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.

The gears in your head start to turn.

He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.

It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.

"I don't think that was the right door."

"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."

"Then wh-"

He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.

"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.

Everything clicks together all at once.

Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.

"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"

"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he can’t support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."

"I’m drunk."

"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"

Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.

“M’fine.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest. He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.

"Hey, where's your hand?"

"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."

"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.

A sobering panic cuts through you.

He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.

"Stay... stay put."

He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.

You call a cab service.

It smells like coffee.

When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.

You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.

You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.

Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.

"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"

Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."

You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.

"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"

He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."

"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."

He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.

"What for?"

"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"

"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."

"But you trusted me, and I-"

"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."

"You-?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.

"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if he’s testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you… to not take it further than I was comfortable with… more than I trusted myself to… not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.

"Liquid courage."

He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.

"You... got drunk on purpose?"

"Not originally, but, uh."

You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.

"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."

"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."

"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."

"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know what’s getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.

“I mean, literally speaking, your hands.” You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. “Because, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?” He stares, unblinking. “Sorry, too soon to joke, probably,” you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.

When he moves again, it’s with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. “My hands.”

“Yeah, I-”

“No, my hands.” He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. “My hands.”

“If you want to stop-”

“Saying so has always been enough.”

You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.

You take his hand, and you start pulling.

“This is… mine?” An old black tie lays across Reigen’s palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.

“Yeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.” You shrug. “You never really liked it, though, plus you’re here all the time anyway, so I didn’t get around to giving it back, and it’s just been here ever since.”

As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks.

There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.

He’s struck with the realization it’s not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasn’t there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.

He’s wearing off on you.

He’s known it for a while, but he’s never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.

“Still okay?”

He wonders how you’ve worn off on him, which parts of him weren’t there before that he doesn’t notice, can’t notice.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until he’s left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.

He feels light.

You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.

“Oh, wait!” You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. “Not- we should take my shirt off first.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You laugh and settle back onto your knees. “Yes, okay, let’s- yeah.”

Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.

He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. He’s insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.

You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.

“We could stay like this? My hands are… close-ish together.”

“I can’t see behind me to tie it, but,” you pull his hands around your head, “I’m sure we can figure it out after that.”

He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything you’re satisfied with.

“Sorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.”

“It’s alright. I like the attention.”

You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.

“‘Taka, I’m supposed to be the composed one!”

“I’m just trying to be honest!” He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.

“Don’t worry,” you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, “I like giving you attention.” You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. “And I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.”

“You seem plenty composed to me.” He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.

“Quick recovery. I learned from the best.” You wink and put your fingers through the loops. “Here, hands in here.”

He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.

“There, it’ll have to do.” You slip a finger in each loop, making sure there’s enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. “It’s a little loose, so don’t pull too hard, okay?”

“Sure.” He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’ll try.”

You roll your eyes, smile still wide.

“Hands above your head, please.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to get at your neck.” You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. “Those were in the way.”

“O-oh. Right.”

You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.

You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.

You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you won’t move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.

You’re both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.

He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.

“Ooh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?” You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.

“Trickery.” He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. “Not fair.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty more chances.” You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the “v” of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. It’s slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down.

You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, you’re too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.

“Having fun down there?”

“Oh, lots, thanks.” You slip your thumb below the elastic. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Hm.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.

“Yes.”

“So, just to make sure, you are having fun?” It’s just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.

“Good boy.”

You’re not sure you would have felt it if you weren’t holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.

“Arataka.”

“Hmm?” He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.

“Should I keep calling you a good boy?”

“Um. If you want.” He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.

He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesn’t reach for your hands.

“You’re doing so well, ‘Taka.” He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. “Such a good boy for me.” Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.

“Mhm.” You lean back on your heels. “How about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,” you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, “I’ll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?”

He nods, and you stop moving.

“Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his wrists together, “yes, sounds good.”

“Good job.” When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. “So perfect.”

You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. It’s not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.

“Fuck, that, more of that. P-please.”

“This hand?” You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.

“Yeah. I need… just, hold onto me.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. “Good boy.”

“Shit,” he laughs, squirming closer to you. “S’not close enough.”

“Let me try something, then.” You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. “There you go, perfect.”

You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.

“Sorry, too much?”

“Not enough.” His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. “Can you, don’t put it- but, closer?”

“You want me here instead?” You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.

“Y-yes. Yes, fuck.”

“Gladly.” Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.”

He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.

He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you can’t help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. “Alright, love, I’m gonna give you a choice, okay?”

He swallows thickly, then nods.

“Option one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I won’t do anything you don’t tell me, so you’ll have to say exactly what you want.”

His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. “And option two?”

You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. “I do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.” He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. “Just for a little while.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, it’s fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigen’s wrists.

“Both options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.” You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.

When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. He’s sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because he’s seeing you in his clothes - he’s had the privilege of that many times before - but because you’ve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing he’d done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and you’ve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.

For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.

“Second one.”

Your eyebrows raise a little, like you’re surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then you’re grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like he’s giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.

You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.

“Just like that, gorgeous.”

He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.

“That’s it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.”

For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesn’t hold back. You’re silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because you’re not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if he’s exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, you’re not going to complain.

After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. You’re still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isn’t already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize he’s saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.

“Can I have your hand?” You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. “I just- I need,” he opens and closes his hands, “something.” When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.

“Please, I need- I can’t take it anymore.” He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize you’ve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.

He’s begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; he’s still tugging at your hand like you can’t get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he can’t quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.

He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.

You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but you’re not exactly paying attention to where you’re still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.

“Nono, wait, don’t-” He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.

“It’s okay, ‘Taka, s’okay. I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t wanna crush you. Let’s sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.” You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. “That’s it. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

Once he’s upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesn’t slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.

“How you feelin’?”

He doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.

“I think I died.” His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. “I understand you now.”

“You didn’t die, I promise.” You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. “That’s high praise, though.”

“You’re high praise.”

“You’re the one that liked it so much.”

He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesn’t have the distraction of everything else, you can tell he’s starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and he’s fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to oblige.”

You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanket’s seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. “The hell was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.” He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. “You could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?”

“With clearly human teeth?”

“Maybe it… stole them?”

He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.

“Where you going with that hand, darling?”

He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. “Your turn?”

You consider it. You’re not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. There’s a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over what’s left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But there’s something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .

More than anything, you are content.

He sees your expression and laughs, must know what you’re going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.

“Maybe next time.”

#reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #my writing #it's been so long i forget how i tag things lol #hey bestie you're for sure gonna get a notif for this and i apologize in advance lsjkdfk #thank you so so much to everyone that stayed through the hiatus #i have been reading all the kind comments and asks and even though i don't respond they absolutely make my day #i was trying to avoid the internet as much as possible and it kinda... just stayed that way for a long time #if you're worried about this being the “last” aspec reigen pls don't panic #there's a more detailed ramble on ao3 but basically there will be more of these two goofs in love #(and probably a third goof in love)#but i wanna change some stuff and it'll be easier to do that in a new series #since this wasn't really meant to be a series in the first place weirdly #so basically it may be slow going but this isn't the end #i'm dropping this and then going to bed so i'll see y'all in the morning i hope you enjoy!!#i have.... so much to catch up on.....

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robo-dino-puppy · 1 year ago

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this is a week-overdue post oops but I'm working my way through all of the character routes in Focus on the Heart and I am SO AMAZED at what you all came together to create!!! like. honestly I have no experience with visual novels/dating sims, so I didn't know what to expect, but it is so so so cool to see the outcome of this amazing collaborative project!!! I can tell how much love and care went into every aspect of the game. the sprites, the backgrounds, the music (some of it is stuck in my head!), the writing that flows naturally between player-driven choices and the (I'm assuming) fixed points in each path - idk anything about game development but I can tell it's a staggering amount of work and it's amazing. I know I'll miss someone so I won't try tagging everyone but congrats to you all and thank you for sharing your work with all of us!!!

#foth #focus on the heart #fothreact #i knew i was going to start with erend or talanah so i flipped a coin XD and ended up doing erend first #got all of the ... photo album entries? for him and a kiss :D :D :D #was not *quite* as in tune with talanah apparently as i'm missing two illustrations :'( but i still got a kiss at the end thank goodness!#i'm going to do everyone for sure - and try to see all the endings - but it might take me a while #anyway it's awesome and if anyone has even an inkling of interest and you haven't checked it out yet you should!#i still headcanon ace/romantically unattached aloy personally but i still love seeing other interpretations of her and the other characters #it makes fandom richer. i think :)#text post

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habitant · 2 months ago

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Dimitri Filipovic and Harman Dayal on The Hockey PDOcast discuss the Dobson trade to Montreal, the caliber of player that he is and the fit with the Habs. Episode released on June 28th 2025 [59:20 to 1:14:53]

FILIPOVIC: But let's focus on Dobson here, and the fit with the Habs, and kind of what they're getting in him, because I think... This is true for a lot of, you know, offensive-oriented defensemen, in terms of depending who you talk to and their preferences, I think opinions are gonna vary. He seems like a very polarizing player, having played for the Islanders the past couple years, and obviously peaked two years ago with that 70+ point explosion, and then, regressed somewhat from a point perspective at least last year. And it feels like people have kind of soured on him, as a player a little bit. I think some of it is justified, I think there's a lot of things that we're gonna talk about today that suggest that that's probably unfair, and that he's still the caliber of player that he was regarded as previously. But what are your thoughts on Dobson, and the Habs prioritizing landing him and ultimately doing so?

DAYAL: I love this fit for the Habs. I've been a long time Noah Dobson believer. Even going back to his draft year, I watched a ton of his tape in the Q[MJHL]. I've been a long-time believer in [???]. I never thought he was quite as good as his 2023-24 season when he put up the 70 points, when he finished top 10 in Norris trophy voting. I didn't view him as this upper echelon number one defenseman, necessarily. But I also think that the criticism of his game coming off a down year this season has been a little bit over the top. So I'm a little—I'm in between, in terms of rating the player, um, between what he did in 2023-24 and this past season. To me he's sort of like low-end number one, slash ultra-premium number two. In my mind, he's one of the top ten or fifteen right-shot defensemen in the NHL. It gives them another dynamic puck mover, another even-strength needle mover for the Habs, which outside of the [unintelligible, but I suspect he means "the first line"] and the Lane Hutson pairing, the Habs needed more five-on-five playdrivers. And look, top-pair, right side defensemen in their prime are one of the hardest things in the league to acquire, and for the Canadiens, outside of that second line center position, that was probably their biggest roster need moving forward. Plus, you're able to sign him in, sign him long term and under 10 million dollars, as the cap hit, I think that contract will look good, as the cap continues to skyrocket. He's obviously not a, not a perfect player, but I'm a fan of the player. I love the fit, whether he's with Guhle, or you wanna load up your two best offensive guys and have him play with Hutson, and sort of do the Toews-Makar thing, the Hughes-Hronek thing, where you're stacking two of your best puck movers and offensive guys together, that's an option, but I also think he'd be a terrific fit with Kaiden Guhle.

FILIPOVIC: Yeah, you mentioned not only a right-shot defenseman, but one who's 6"4 and, you know, in the prime of his career, turning 26 in January, similar in just—in part one, I had Steve Peters on and we were talking about Michael Kesselring within the context of the JJ Peterka trade, and a lot of that same stuff applies, obviously, Dobson at a much higher echelon in terms of production where it wasn't just that 23-24 season. The past four seasons, he's averaged 56 points per 82 games played. The only defensemen with more total points in that time are a pretty good list of Makar, Quinn Hughes, Fox, Josi, Headman, Dahlin, Karlsson, Morissey, and Bouchard. Now, I think there's some important context to apply to what happened last year. Obviously, the Islanders bottomed out due to injuries and regression, and wound up getting the first overall pick and getting Matthew Schaefer in the process, but the underlying numbers still suggest that he was a legitimate driver, right? 54 percent, or even North of it in terms of five-on-five high danger chance share, expected goal share... I think it's, because of the injuries, and as a result of it, like he winds up playing 50+ five-on-five minutes with Romanov, Isaiah George, Pelech, Pulock, Mayfield, and then getting into like Mike Reilly, and Dennis Cholowski, and the Islanders had this rotating door of defensemen all year, where they wound up using twelve of them for ten games or more. And then, there's also the fact that Barzal only played 30 games, right? And we don't often think about the impact of defense and forward combinations, because we think of defensemen within the context of their own pairing and their own partner. But it's clear when you just, apply any thought, but especially look into the tape, and what those two guys were doing together when Barzal really had the best season of his career in 23-24. The chemistry between the two, and the dynamic of creating space for each other, and sort of playing off each other in this symbiotic way, and that was on full display that season. And then you remove Barzal from that equation as well, and I think that added a clear detrimental impact on him.

Clearly, have some questions about his game, right? I think some of the footspeed stuff defensively, in terms of defending the blue line, has always been up for debate. Although, you look at Cory Schneider's data, and he was much more aggressive last year in gapping up, and closing off space, and jump in passing lanes. He was still giving up a very high percent of scoring chances off of entries, but the actual volume of what he was allowing guys to carry the puck in went way down compared to even his best season in 23-24. He forced many more denials, and so that's all stuff you like to see, and then there's the component of, sometimes, what's drawn the ire of Islanders fans is, have been the blunders with the puck, right? Giveaways, turnovers, things like that, and some of that is a by-product, I think, of him not having a lot of urgency to his game, right? He plays at a very, slower rhythm, much more methodical, I think, with the puck, and is a bit more deliberate, and I think he needs to ramp that up a little bit, and maybe going to a more fast-paced, younger, explosive team in Montreal is gonna help with that. But it's also, I think, a by-product of any defenseman that handles the puck as much as he does, right. Playing 23-24 minutes a night, being relied on to do all the heavy lifting as a creator and facilitator, you're gonna wind up having your share of giveaways just because you always have the puck on your stick. And if you're as talented as he is, you're routinely trying to do stuff with it to create. And so, those blunders are gonna happen, but I think the net positive in terms of his impact, and how good the team is with him on the ice, and how much he creates, of course, is just undeniable. And so, I think betting on the player to bounce back, and even really, kind of framing it as he wasn't necessarily as bad as some of the overall numbers might indicate last year, I think is very fair and so I think he's gonna be awesome in Montreal.

DAYAL: Yeah, as you alluded to, he's not a perfect player. Especially defensively, and the puck management side of things. He did have some very loud defensive blunders, but when you step back and look at the overall picture, he's consistently won his minutes playing first-pair the last four seasons. He has been in this top pair role and the Isles have scored more goals than they've allowed in every single one of those seasons during Dobson's five-on-five shifts. And even when we characterize his defensive flaws, the actual number of goals against that he's on the ice for aren't actually that high, right. So you look at the last three seasons, Dobson's been on the ice for 2.24 goals against per 60 at five-on-five, that ranks top 50 among NHL defensemen. So, yes, he's prone to blunders. Yes, without the puck, there are moments when you'd like him to be a little more assertive closing plays, and killing them proactively, and he's been criticized for not always leveraging his 6"4 frame assertively enough, and I understand all of those question marks, but... Ultimately, you step back, and when you can find a 25 year old defenseman who isn't just, isn't just competent in top pair minutes, but is consistently winning them, that's a really hard player to acquire.

FILIPOVIC: It is, and as I said, some of the regression as well, right, where in 23-24, he has the 70 points, the plus 12, last year he winds up with just 39 points and a minus 16, you look a little further and, as you alluded to, they still won his five-on-five minutes. He had a plus 3 goal differential, part of that minus is just because he was on the ice for a shocking amount of empty net goals against, because the Islanders weren't very good, and the power play itself was 31rst in the league. And so, he was on that unit, but with Barzal out, and then trading Nelson, I'm not necessarily holding that against him. And, you know, as you look ahead to him in Montreal, with Lane Hutson there, the points might not necessarily bump up back to that 70 point total, and he might not even get a heavy volume of power play usage, but what he's gonna be able to do at five-on-five is I think gonna make a massive difference. And I wanna talk more a little bit about that fit, in terms of the best way to deploy him, and what you see. Because I imagine, Marty St-Louis certainly, you know situationally, if they're trailing or pushing for offense, gonna be inclined to load up both him and Hutson, you know on their natural sides, with one being a lefty and one being a righty, and I think that that dynamic can certainly coexist, because they both like to have the puck on their stick, but they also do it in different ways. Not only with Dobson's shot, compared to Hutson's more sort of holding on to it and trying to make plays for other dynamic, but also what I said earlier about whenever he'd be out there with Barzal, you'd sort of see this where Barzal would kinda be holding on to the puck, and circling the zone, and Dobson was so good at stepping into the open lane, or kind of moving off of the spot. And getting lost in the coverage and then popping open and either getting a good look off of it, or then setting up a teammate with a backdoor pass. I think they're gonna be able to replicate a lot of that with Hutson, some of the interchanges at the blue line, and setting him up for a one time look in a good shooting position, so I love that, but I think even long term, the idea that you add a guy who can, has already proven that he can float his own pair is a massive development for the Habs. Because when they had Hutson and Guhle out there, as the year progressed, things were shaping up really well for the Habs, but beyond that—and some of that was deployment, right, like they leaned on that Mike Matheson-Alex Carrier pair with such heavy defensive zone deployment where I think they were under 30% offensive zone starts for a long time [habitant note: correct, that pairing ended the season with 21.05% offensive zone starts, which was the least out of any Habs d-pairing that played at least 100 minutes together over the course of the season]. That's gonna result in bad numbers, especially with Matheson not really having the skillset to accommodate that, but they just didn't really have playmakers or facilitators when Hutson wasn't out there, especially if Guhle was playing with him, and now, you have a second guy who can get the puck to the forwards efficiently and quickly, and I think we agree that Marty St-Louis wants this team ideally to play quickly, North-South, and attack much more off the rush, and I think a guy like Dobson and his skillset is really gonna help enable that to a great extent.

DAYAL: Yeah, this is um, this gives Marty St-Louis a lot of different options, and I'm curious to see how they experiment in training camp, and pre-season, and even during the start of the regular season to land on what's the optimal way to deploy these guys. Because you're right, Dobson can drive his own pairing, which is such an asset, where some defensemen only thrive in a top four setting when they have an equal or better sort of partner to play with, whereas Dobson, you can trust that his skillset can work in a complementary role, if you wanna load him up with Hutson, and especially with their offensive skillsets sort of being complementary, they would have a ton of success together. But also, now Guhle all of a sudden, he's a big winner in all this where now all of a sudden you're imagining that he's gonna be with one of Hutson or Dobson at all times. And when I look at Guhle's skillset, as a, as a sort of shut down, more authoritative physical presence, a guy who can gap up in the neutral zone, and also fits that modern blend, where he's mobile enough, and has enough sort of puck skills to complement an offensive guy. It takes pressure off him to single-handedly drive a pair, and I think the idea of him and Dobson together, where you mentionned that Dobson isn't always necessarily the best at defending off the rush, well that's an area where Guhle really excels in. So that fits there, and if Guhle isn't with Dobson, then he gets to play with Hutson full time. So this gives the Canadiens a ton of options and even when I think about this Habs blue line long term now, to have Hutson, Dobson, Guhle, and then also Reinbacher coming. This Habs blue line is gonna be an absolute force for years to come.

FILIPOVIC: Yeah, I loved it. The 23-24 tape, I got into it in preparation for this, was just absolutely sublime for Dobson. Like the amount of, the things he was doing in the offensive zone, in terms of some of the backdoor passing and setting guys up for tap-ins, or the shot passes and the Islanders had a bunch of guys netfront with Lee and others who were able to capitalize on that, or just kind of playing around with it at the blue line and creating space for others was next level. And so I think that's something to really look forward to here. On the note of pairs, and having a second pair that can hold their own, I know it was only five games in round one against the Caps, but I think it's pretty instructive in terms of what we're talking about, where, when Montreal had Hutson and Guhle out there in that series: 55% shot share five-on-five, 61% expected goals share. Unfortunately, when they had the other pairs, which were Matheson and Carrier, or David Savard, who's since retired, with either Xhekaj or Struble, they were in the mid 30s essentially, right. And there was a massive sample of Matheson and Carrier kind of playing in a role that wasn't suitable to their skillset, and being overextended, and they were just getting crushed in that time, and really you could even date this back to since the 4 Nations break, when Montreal really started their spirited playoff push, and that's a 26 game sample. When they had Suzuki and Hutson out there, up 17 to 4, 61% of the shots, 61% of the chances and expected goals, and then without them, down 27 to 14, and everything in the 30s. And so, just having a second driver who, if you don't have those guys out there, is still able to keep you afloat and actually create stuff, is just gonna be so massive. On the powerplay note, I think we both expect that he's not necessarily gonna feature very heavily on the top unit, right? Because I think the splits for them last year, they wind up 21rst on the man advantage, I don't think that's reflective of how good their top guys were. Because a lot of that includes the early season when they were kind of working Hutson in and trying to manage his minutes, and Matheson was on that top unit. And as soon as they put Hutson up there, and he was playing with Suzuki and Caufield on the top unit, they exploded up to 9.5 goals per hour, and that was the, I think, 6th best in the league, and then now you also bake in Demidov's playmaking and potentially adding to that as another creator. That's gonna be a pretty lethal combination of guys, and I think that's gonna allow Dobson certainly to quarterback the second unit, but just generate a lot of his value to this team I think in just making them a much more well-rounded five-on-five group. And that's something you look for when you try to take that next step as an organization from, last year was a fun story, they made the playoffs for the first time in a while, and now actually consolidating on that, and building it out and scaling it, and becoming a team that does this year over year, and actually advances past just five game cameo in the first round.

#noah dobson #habs #trying to learn more about the guy & have some kind of reference point & reasonable expectations for next season #overall I'm quite happy w the blue line even tho I'm afraid we realistically can't keep everybody and I'm pre-sad and agonizing over who #we're going to lose but. seems like he's going to be a good fit #this is. long lol. was gonna do only the main points and what i pers. found interesting but i ended up just typing up the whole discussion #kr.transcript #podcast stuff #bolds are my personal highlights for later #briefly touched on line + dpair combinations which i found interesting cause of the suzy/lane direct parallel #all of it is just throwing pair ideas around cause you can't know for sure until you actually see them play together but i v much like the #idea of at least for a little bit having hutson/dobson together and then guhle/carrier just bc of that stretch last season where hutson/mat #worked well together & guhle/carrier made for such a good shutdown pair. skimming the stats very surface level they also contributed much #more offensively than i would've thought. smaller sample size cause of injury but they performed better than carrier/matheson w fairly #similar deployment w mm/ac at 21.05 off. zone start % and kg/ac at 31.95 howEver they ended up w a total of 135 vs 66 def zone starts #but the pair had better stats in pretty much every metric #but i do think since it'll be lane's second year off zone start % might be a little bit more balanced next season. he should still get the #majority of them i think but if we add dobson then we can spread out the blue line better for offensive push & lane's going to take a littl #more defensive responsibilities #we could also galaxy brain struble/hutson guhle/dobson math/carrier keeping lane on the right considering how good that pairing was #but ultimately i think lane kind of made everyone he played with better this year and yes it's partly deployment but it's also just skillse #no math/dobson pls from what I'm reading and hearing with the similarities in mistakes i might have an aneurysm #i do wonder if how we saw w math and guhle being significantly better on their natural side if somehow lane on the left could be even More #insanely good than he was this year spending a good chunk of it on the right. but man. he was so good like this too.#and that's not even touching on xhekaj + reinbacher + possibly engström who I'd reaaaally like to see for at least a stretch in montreal #an embarrassment of riches (pos). arfh the season can't start soon enough i wanna Seeeeeeeeeee #it's not the whole whole thing they go on to talk about more the asset management smarts part of the trade which was interesting but #irrelevant to the reason i was taking notes which was how dobson would fit on the team #the fact that in 4 years w the cap growth/percentage it would be equivalent to a ~7M cap hit under the current cap is interesting

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